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IIJJ 



NBY WaDSWOBTH LoNGFELLOW 




Birthplace of Longfellow. (1807.) 



HIS LIFE HIS WORKS 



HIS FRIEIi^DSHIPS 



Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 



HIS LIFE, HIS WOEKS, HIS FRIENDSHIPS 



BY 



GEORaE LOWELL AUSTIN 



ILLUSTRATED 



BOSTON 
LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS 

1883 



UHp^/z^ 






Copyright, 1882, 
BY LEE AND SHEPARO„ 



All rights reserved, 

V-SGS'S'6'. 



PEEFAOE. 



I FIRST became acquainted with Mr. Longfellow in 
the autumn of 1868, a few clays after taking up my 
residence in Cambridge. Many circumstances, irrespec- 
tive of the characteristic good will and geniality of the 
poet, tended to ripen this acquaintance into a friendship., 
to which I now revert with more than ordinary pleasure 
and gratification. Thenceforth we met frequently and 
talked over matters which, I have no doubt, interested 
me much more than they did my friend. In 1876 my 
"History of Massachusetts" was published. Having 
examined a copy of the work, Mr. Longfellow sent for 
me one day and suggested the preparation of a work 
which should comprise in its subject-matter very full 
biographical data relative to our elder American poets. 
The suggestion was duly considered, and the project 
seemed to me to be at that time perfectl}' feasible. Upon 
making known to Mr. Longfellow my decision, it was at 
once agreed that we should begin with his own literary 
life and works. At intervals he .gave me much of his 
valuable time, and I very carefully gathered together 
from his lips my memoranda. The removal of the poet 
to his summer home at Nahant naturally suspended the 



iV PKEFACE. 

interviews ; and, while I hoped to continue my pleasant 
labors in the autumn of 1877, other duties of a personal 
nature interfered and at length forced me to confess, in 
response to repeated inquiries of Mr. Longfellow, my 
inability at the time to complete the plan which he had so 
kindly proposed. - 

Soon after the death of Mr. Longfellow, Mr. John 
Owen, his life-long friend, strongly urged me to again 
take up the work, and at the same time offered me his 
generous advice and assistance. He freely placed at my 
disposal all the facts in his possession, and jotted down 
from memory many more. We were daily together ; and 
the work was rapidly, but carefully and conscientiously, 
carried forward. About the middle of April, 1882, on a 
Sunday and just after we had completed our memoranda, 
we strolled off together. The bright sun was overhead, 
but the air was chilly and the earth was damp. That 
evening Mr. Owen was taken ill, and continued so for 
nearly a fortnight. His malady was not thought to be 
serious at first by his attending physician, but the end 
proved otherwise ; and he passed quietly away on the 
22nd, in the seventy-sixth year of his age. I can pay no 
better tribute to my friend's memory than this : he was 
ever conscientious in his opinions, untiring in his search 
after truth, and faithful to all whom he recognized as his 
friends. Though his name does not appear as often as it 
ought in the following pages, still I am only too glad to 
acknowledge my great indebtedness to him from the first 
page to the last. 



PREFACE. V 

Without Mr. Owen's assistance I should never have 
completed this volume. At his earnest entreaty, I at 
once made known to the Rev. Samuel Longfellow, the 
younger brother of the poet, and himself a true poet as 
well, the purpose which I had in mind. I did this be- 
cause I was unwilling to undertake such a work without 
the knowledge of the family, and still I did not feel like 
taking counsel with the latter at such a premature mo- 
ment. The Rev. Mr. Longfellow received me most cor- 
dially and encouraged me to go on with the enterprise. 

In the preparation of this volume I have had specially 
one object ; namely, to present a clear but popular pic- 
ture of the poet's literarj^ life. The details of his personal 
and private life, or at least so much of it as belongs by 
right strictly to his family, I have purposely avoided. It 
will be noticed also, that I have as a rule omitted all 
correspondence which passed between Mr. Longfellow 
and his friends and admirers. Many of my own recollec- 
tions of the poet are scattered throughout the work ; but I 
have thought it proper to omit such as are purely private 
and possess no particular public interest. For the same 
reason, I have endeavored not to thrust myself into the 
narrative any oftener than it seemed necessary to estab- 
lish a fact or to venture an opinion. 

To the surviving classmates of the poet, and to others 
among his most intimate friends, I stand largely indebted. 
My correspondence has been large, and the responses 
have been full and generous ; and I only regret that I 
have not the space to mention the names of those to 



VI PREFACE. 

whom in general terms I must again acknowledge my 
gratitude for assistance. 

Tlie frontispiece portrait of Mr. Longfellow is a repro- 
duction, by the Lithotype Company of New York J from the 
latest and most admired negative taken by Mr. Warren. 
For brilliancy, softness and accuracy of detail, it is truly 
admirable. 

The work is now committed to the public in the hope 
that it will not be found wanting in interest and value. 
Mr. Longfellow's life throughout was a plea for cheerful- 
ness and good will to his fellow-men. I trust that the 
stoi-y of his life, as portrayed in these pages, will not fail 
to teach the same inspiring and ennobling lesson. 

G. L. A. 

Cambridge, Mass. 



COE^TEISTTS. 



PAOS 

CHAPTER I. 
The Ancestry of the Poet 7 



CHAPTER n. 
BiETH AND Early Childhood 32 

CHAPTER HI. 
College Days 53 

CHAPTER IV. 
The Earlier Poems of Longfellow 80 

CHAPTER V. 
Longfellow's First Visit to Europe 105 

CHAPTER VI. 
Longfellow a Professor in Bowdoin College . . . 163 

CHAPTER VII. 
Invited to Cambridge: Kevisits Europe 187 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Longfellow's First Years in Cambridge 198 

vii 



VIU CONTENTS. 

PA6K 

CHAPTER IX. 
"Hypeeion" and "Voices of the Night" , « . . 224 

CHAPTER X. 
"Ballads and Other Poems" 259 

CHAPTER XL 
The Period of Longfellow's Second Marriage . . 279 

CHAPTER XII. 
"Evangeline, a Tale of Acadie " 297 

CHAPTER XIIL 
The Period of "Hiawatha" 314 

CHAPTER XIV. 
Years of Adversity and 'J'oil 33S 

CHAPTER XV. 
The Translation of Dante 351 

CHAPTER XVI. 
The Last Ten Years 363 

CHAPTER XVIL 
Last Illness and Death 378 

APPENDIX: Longfellow's Bibliography 405 

INDEX , 411 



ILLUSTEATIOI^S. 



PAGE 

Portrait of Longfellow. A Lithotypb Reproduction of 
ONE of the Last Negatives taken by Warren of Bos- 
ton. The Picture was a Favorite of the Poet, Frontispiece 

The Granite Horse-Block and the Large Elm at New- 
bury, Mass. From a Photograph kindly furnished by 
Mr. William A. Ford of Boston 9 

The Old Longfellow Homestead at Newbury, Mass. From 
A Photograph taken in March, 1882, by Mr. Ford, and 
loaned by him 10 

The Wadsworth House, at Portland, Me 25 

Longfellow's Birthplace, at Portland, Me., as it appears 

IN 1882 sa 

The Old Wharf, at Portland, Me 41 

Longfellow's Birthplace, as it appeared in 1807. Taken 

FROM AN Old Engraving 44 

Professor Cleaveland on the Lecture-Path 59 

BowDOiN College in 18.30 61 

Profile Portrait of Longfellow in the Year of his 

Graduation from Bowdoin College 78 

Portrait of Longfellow at the Age of Twenty-five, 

Facing 165 
The Craigie House at Cambridge, Mass.: the Home op 

THE Poet from the Time of his Arrival in Cambridge, 

Facing 200 
Harvard College at the Time of the Second Centennial 

Celebration in 1836 217 

Mary Ashburton 235 



X ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGB 

BuEG Unspunnen 237 

Chapef. of Saint Gilgen 246 

Round Towek at Newport, R.I 2G0 

The Village Smithy at Cambridge. Reduced Facsimile 
of a Pen-and-Ink Drawing made by Longfellow in 

1840 Facing 268 

Longfellow's Chamber at the Craigie House, from 1837 

TO 1844 280 

The Old Clock on the Stairs Facing 296 

Portrait of Longfellow, Age Forty-five .... Facing 314 

Portrait of Nathaniel Hawthorne 343 

Portrait of Oliver Wendell Holmes 350 

Longfellow's Study, from 1844 Facing 354 

Portrait of Louis Agassiz 368 

Portrait of Charles Sumner 370 

Portrait of James Russell Lowell 373 

The Longfellow Jug 374 

Elmwood: Home of James Russelt^ Lowell . . . Facing 374 

The Children's Chair Facing 376 

The Drawing-Room at the Longfellow Home . . Facing 382 



FACSIMILES OF MSS. 

PAGE 

Facsimile from "A Midnight Mass for the Dying Year," 

Opposite 256 
Facsimile from Lowell's " Fable for Critics " . . Opposite 274 
Facsimile of the MS. of "The Arrow and the Song," 

NOW IN Possession op the Author Facing 294 

Facsimile of a Translation of Schiller's "Columbus," 
SENT TO Mr. Sumner by the Poet, at the Request of 
his Friend. Original MS. now owned by the Author, 

Facing 368 



HENEY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE ANCESTRY OP THE POET. 

SOME time towards the last quarter of the seven- 
teenth century, there came to live in the town 
of Newbury, Mass.,^ a young man of sturdy habits, 
who bore the name of William Longfellow. He 
was born in Yorkshire, England, in or about the 
year IGSl.^ Having located in the New World, and 

1 " ' OuUl Newberry,' as it was anciently called, was settled, in- 
corporated, and paid its first tax, in the spring of 1G35. It derives 
its name from Newbury, a town in Berkshire, Eng., situated in the 
south part of the county, on the river Kennet, fifty-six miles west 
from London. It was so named in honor of the Rev. Thomas 
Parker, who had for some time preached in Newbury, Eng., before 
his arrival in America. Till its incorporation in 1635, it was called 
by its Indian name, Quascacunquen, — a name which the natives 
gave, not to the whole territory (as the word signifies a ' waterfall '), 
but to ' the falls ' on what is now called the river Parker, on whose 
banks the first settlers fixed their habitations." — A Sketch of the 
History of Newhvry, Neivhuryport, and West JVeiubiiry, from 1635 to 
1S45. by Joshua Coffin, A.B., S.H.S., Boston, 1845. One writer, on 
what authority I know not, states that William Longfellow arrived 
in America in 1663. 

- " Bro. Longfellow's Father, Will'" Longfellow lives at Hosforth 
near Leeds in Yorkshire. Tell him Bro. has a son W" a fine likely 
child, a very good piece of Land, & greatly wants a little stock to 
manage it, and y' Father hath paid for him upwards of an hundred 

7 



8 HENEY WADSWOliTH LONGFELLOW. 

established himself as a merchant, he married, on 
Nov. 10, 1678,1 Anne,2 the daughter of Henry 
Sewall, and laid the foundations of a home in that 
part of the town then known as the " Falls." ^ His 
career, however, was not destined to be crowned with 
the garlands of peace ; for we know, that in 1690, 
as ensign of the Newbury Company, he took an 
active part in the ill-fated expedition which Sir Wil- 

poxinds to get him out of Debt." — Letter of Samuel Sewall to 
Stephen Sewall, dated "Boston in N. E.,Xr. 24, 1G80," in N. E. 
Hist, and Gen. Refjister, vol. xxiv. p. 123. Stephen Sewall was at 
this time residing at Bishop-Stoke, Hampshire, Eng. 

1 Coffin, p. 308, says that the marriage took place 10th Nov., 1676, 
whicli is an error. 

2 Anne Sewall, the daughter of Henry Sewall, was born 3d Sept., 
1662. She was a sister of the chief justice. By this union were 
born William (the child mentioned above), 25th Nov., 1679; Stephen, 
10th Jan., 1681; Anne, 3d Oct., 1683; Stephen, 22d Sept., 1685; Eliza- 
beth, 3d July, 1088; and Nathan, 5th Feb., 1690. 

3 Concerning the old Longfellow house in Byfield, Mr. Horace F. 
Longfellow of that place, under date of Feb. 18, 1882, thus writes: — 

" Dear Sir, — At the request of my father, Joseph Longfellow, I 
answer yours of the 14th, in regard to the old Longfellow house at 
Byfield, Mass. It was probably built by William Longfellow about 
167f>, at or about the time of his marriage with Anne Sewall. The 
location of tlie house is unsurpassed. It is situated on a sightly 
eminence at the very head of tide-water on the river Parker, the 
sparkle of whose waters as they go tumbling over the falls adds a 
picturesfjueness to the natural beauty of the scenery that lies spread 
out on either hand, — hill and vale, forest and field, the outgoing 
or incoming tide. Nature was lavish here; and young Longfellow, 
appreciating it all, erected the old house, to which he took his young 
bride. It still stands, although two centuries and more have passed 
since its outer frame was put together. It has not been occupied for 
twenty odd years, and of course is in a dilapidated condition. I 
was born under the old roof-tree myself; and so were my father, 
grandfather, great-grandfather, and great-great-grandfather (son of 
William) before me. The large chimney was taken down years ago,- 
a part of the house itself has been removed ; but 

" ' The scenes of my childhood are brought fresh to my mindi' 



THE ANCESTRY OF THE POET. 



9 



liam Phips conducted against the stronghold of Que- 
bec. The fleet, which sailed from Boston Harbor 
on the 9tb of August, consisted of thirty-two vessels, 




The Granite Horse-block and the Large Elm. 

having on board an army of twenty-two hundred sol- 
diers. The voyage was a tedious one, and Quebec 

and I can see the old weather-beaten house with its rear roof descend- 
ing nearly to the ground; the long kitchen with its low ceiling and 
wide fireplace; the big brick oven in which was baked the Thanks- 
giving pies and puddings (lean taste them now): the big ' best room;' 
the winding stairs; the old siMnning-wheel in the attic; the well- 
curb and its long sweep at the end of the house; in front, the granite 
horse-block, and the large ehn spreading over all. The old elm still 
lives, but is feeling the effects of age. The old elm and the house 
will end their existence together, and soon. 
" Very truly, 

" Horace F. Loxofellow. 
" Byfield, Mass." 



10 i]i:nuy wadsworth longfellow. 

was not reached until in the early part of the 
month of October.^ 

The story of the expedition has often been told. 
The attempt to capture Quebec proved futile, and 
the audacious commander was forced to abandon the 
object. While the fleet was returning, and had 
already reached the Gulf of St. Lawrence, it was 
overtaken by a furious storm. The vessels were 
scattered: and one of them, having on board the 
Newbury Company, was- driven on the desolate shore 
of Anticosti ; and the gallant ensign, with nine of 
his comrades, was drowned. This event took place 
in the night of the 31st of October.^ 

Of William Longfellow's six children, all but one 
survived to mourn the death of their father. One 
of them, a lad of about five years of age at the time 
of the parental loss, bore the name of Stephen.^ Of 
his early life, even of his manhood, the records are 
scant. He became a blacksmith, and probably lived 
always in Newbury, where "we may picture him, 

1 According to Judge Sewall, "William Longfellow went in 1687 
to England to obtain his patrimony in Yorkshire. It was probably 
in this year that his father died. 

2 " 'Twas Tuesday, the IS'^ of November, that I heard of the 
death of Capt. Stephen Greenleaf, Lieut. James Smith, and Ensign 
W"i Longfellow, Serj' Increase Pilsbury, who with Will Mitchell, 
Jabez Musgro, and four more were drown'd at Cape Britoon [an 
error] on Friday night the last of October." — Judge Sewall's Diary, 
anno 1690. William Longfellow's widow married Henry Short, 
May 11, 1692. 

8 William Longfellow had two sons who bore the name of Ste- 
phen. The first of the name, born in 1681, died in early childhood. 
The second, who afterwards became the blacksmith, was born, as 
stated above, on the 22(1 of September, 1685. He was named for his 
mother's grandfather, Steplien Dnmmer, and was the first of the six 
generations of Stephen Longfellows. 



THE ANCESTIIY OF THE POET. 11 

like the poet's hero of the village smithy, with large 
and sinewy hands, brawny arms, his brow wet with 
honest sweat, as he swings his heavy sledge ' with 
measured beat and slow.' " 

Stephen the blacksmith married, March 25, 1714, 
Abigail Tompson, the daughter of Rev. Edward 
Tompson of Marshfield, by whom he had ten chil- 
dren.^ One of the sons, Stephen, jun., was born on 
Feb. 7, 1723, and quite early in life discovered signs 
of precocious talent. He was more foild of books 
than of the forge and the sledge-hammer, and gave 
such promise of intellectual strength that his father 
was induced to bestow upon him the benefits of an 
education. At the proper time he was sent to 
Harvard College, where he received a diploma of 
graduation in 1742. 

1 Mr. Ehvell of Portland writes as follows concerning the Long- 
fellow grant of land in the parish of Byfield, Newbury, Mass.: " It 
is a remarkable and interesting coincidence that the families of two 
of the first poets of our time, "Whittier and Longfellow, originated in 
the same neighborhood; the original Longfellow home in Byfield 
being but about five miles distant from the old "Whittier house in 
East Haverhill, both of which are now standing. The Byfield Long- 
fellows are descended from Samuel, son of the first Stci^hen, and 
brother of the second Stephen, who came to Portland in 1745. Samuel 
had a son Nathan; Nathan two sons, Joseph and Samuel; Joseph a 
son Horace. Joseph and Horace still live on land included in the 
original grant. The old house is quite a Mecca for literary pilgrims. 
The Byfield Longfellows are prominent in local politics, and have 
talent as speakers and writers. Samuel, brother of Joseph, lives in 
Groveland, a neighboring town. He has a daughter Alice, who 
is making a reputation as a writer and public reader. Joseph, of 
Byfield, who is a noted wit, says, that when he was a young man he 
was ashamed of his name, especially as he was literally a Lonr:- 
fellow; but when Henry Wadsworth began to make a reputation, 
and people would ask him if he was related to the poet, he became 
proud of it." 



12 HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

After completing his college course, Stephen 
Longfellow taught the village school in York. It 
was after he had been thus engaged, and was out of 
employment, that he received the following letter: — 

Falmouth, Nov. 15, 1744. 
Sir, — We need a schoolmaster. Mr. Plaisted advises 
of your being at liberty. If you will undertake the ser- 
vice in this place, you may depend upon our being gene- 
rous and your being satisfied. I wish you'd come as soon 
as possible, and doubt not but you'll find things much to 
your content. 

Your humble ser't, 

Thos. Smith. 

P.S. — I write in the name and with the power of the 
selectmen of the town. If you can't serve us, pray ad- 
vise us of it per first opportunity. 

The author of the foregoing epistle was the venera- 
ble guardian of souls in Falmouth, or Portland as 
it is now called. That Stephen Longfellow consid- 
ered well the proposal, and acted favorably upon it, 
is disclosed by the following simple record, which 
we read in Parson Smith's " Journal," under date of 
April 11, 1745: "Mr. Longfellow came here to 
live."i 

1 Thomas Smith, the venerable minister whose Journal con- 
tains so much that is valuable bearing on the early history of Port- 
land, Me., was born March 10, 1702, the eldest of a large family of 
children. He graduated at Harvard in 1720, entered at once upon 
theological studies, and in 1727 was settled in Falmouth, as the 
first regularly ordained minister in Maine east of Wells. In 1728 
he Avas married to Sarah Tyng (daughter of William Tyng, Esq., of 
Woburii, Mass.), who died Oct. 1, 1742. In 1744 he was married to 
Mrs. Olive Jordan, widow of Capt. Samuel Jordan of Saco, and 



THE ANCESTRY OF THE POET. 13 

One week later, Mr. Longfellow opened his school 
*' in a building on the corner of Middle Street and 
School, now Pearl Street ; " and among his pupils 
were the names of many of the most prominent fami- 
lies of that day. His salary was two hundred pounds 
sterling, not including the tuition-fees, which for each 
pupil was eighteen shillings and eightpence per year. 

Matters fared well with the schoolmaster, and his 
time was not so fully occupied with the duties of his 
profession that he could not fall in love. He met 
and became acquainted with Tabitha Bragdon, a 
daughter of Samuel Bragdon of York ; and on Oct. 
19, 1749, he was married to her. Shortly afterwards 
he forsook his boarding-place at the parsonage,^ and 
went to live in a house of his own in Fore Street.^ 
Thither, also, he transferred his school, and continued 
to teach until 1760, at which time he was appointed 
clerk of the judicial court. 

The following notice was annually, with change of 
date, posted on the schoolhouse door : — 

' ' Notice is hereby given to such persons as are disposed 
to send their children to school in this place the ensuing 
year, that the year commences this day, and the price 
will be as usual; viz., eighteen shillings and eightpence 

lived with her about twenty years. In 1766 he was married to Mrs. 
Elizabeth Wendell, daughter of John Hunt of Boston. By his first 
wife, Parson Smith had eight children. He died May 25, 1795, in 
the ninety-fourth year of his age. 

1 In his copy of Smith's Journal, Mr. William Willis says in 
a MSS. note, "I think Mr. Longfellow boarded with Mr. Smith 
when he came here until his marriage." 

2 The Fore-street house was built on the lot now occupied by 
the Eagle Sugar Refinery. 



14 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

per year for each scholar that comes by the year, and eight 
shillings per quarter for such as come by the quarter," 

There were then no newspapers printed in the 
town, nor for thirty years afterwards. 

Stephen Longfellow's father lived long enough to 
see his son fully entered upon a life of usefulness 
and honorable distinction ; and when he died (Nov. 
7, 1764), he left him a small legacy. " It is an evi- 
dence of the son's affectionate regard for his father, 
that, on receiving this legacy, he formed the purpose 
of converting it into a permanent memorial. Tak- 
ing the silver coin, he sent it by packet to Boston ; 
but, unfortunately, the vessel was lost, and the money 
with it. When the tidings reached Mr, Longfellow, 
he made up a like amount of silver coin, which 
reached Boston in safety, and was manufactured by 
John Butler, a well-known silversmith, into a tank- 
ard, a can, and two porringers. Each bore the initials 
" S. L.," and the added words of grateful remem- 
brance, '"'•Ex dono patrisy The tankard has been 
preserved ; and one of the porringers, after a some- 
what eventful history, has found its way back into 
the family, and is now one of the treasures of the 
poet's brother, Alexander W. Longfellow." ^ 

When, on the 18th of October, 1775, Falmouth 
was bombarded and partially destroyed by the Brit- 
ish soldiery, among the buildings to fall before the 
flaming element was the home of Stephen Longfel- 

1 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and His Paternal Ancestry, 
by Rev. H. S. Barrage of Portland. A most admirable memoir, to 
which I stand much indebted throughout this chapter. 



THE ANCESTRY OF THE POET. 16 

low.^ The house was never rebuilt. The committee 
appointed to examine and liquidate the accounts of 
those who suffered in the burning of the town, hav- 
ing estimated and replaced his loss to the extent of 
.£1,119, Mr. Longfellow, with other inhabitants of 
the town, including Parson Deane of the First Parish, 
removed to Gorham, Me., where he continued to 
reside until his death, which occurred May 1, 1790. 
In a brief sketch of his life Mr. Willis thus writes : — 

" Mr. Longfellow filled many important offices in the 
town to universal acceptance. He was about fifteen years 
grammar-school master, town clerk twenty-two years, 
many years clerk of the proprietors of the common land, 
and from the establishment of the county in 1760 to the 
commencement of the Revolution in 1775 he was register 
of probate and clerk of the judicial courts. His hand- 
writing, in beautiful characters, symbolical of the purity 
and excellence of his own moral character, is impressed 
on all the records of the town and county through many 
successive years." ^ 

To Stephen Longfellow, by his wife Tabitha were 
born three sons and one daughter.^ Of these, Wil- 
liam died in childhood ; Samuel left no children ; 

1 " October 16, a fleet of five or six vessels of war anchored at 
the Island with Mowat, a cat bomb ship, two cutter schooners and 
a small bomb sloop. On the 17ti>, they came up before the town, p.m. ; 
sent word that in two hours they should fire upon the town, which 
was respited. On the ISt'i, at nine a.m. they began and continued 
until dark, with their mortars and cannon, when with marines land- 
ing, they burnt all the lower part of the town and up as far as Mr. 
Bradbury's, excepting Mrs. Ross' two houses, and son Thomas' shop 
and stores, my house being included." — Smith's Journal, anno 1775. 

2 Note to his edition of Smith's Journal, p. 118. 

3 Tabitha, who became the wife of Capt. John Stephenson in 1771, 



16 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

and Stephen, the eldest, was born Aug. 3, 1750. In 
the early years of his manhood he became acquainted 
with Patience Young of York, and married her on 
Dec. 13, 1773. He lived in Gorham, and died there 
May 28, 1824. 

During his life, Stephen Longfellow took an active 
part in the affairs of his town and county. Besides 
having been extensively employed as a surveyor, and 
having held several town offices, he had the honor 
of representing Gorham in the General Court of 
Massachusetts for eight years. For several years he 
was a senator from Cumberland County; and, from 
1797 to 1811, he was judge of the Court of Common 
Pleas. There are still living not a few who remem- 
ber with what dignity he was wont to be driven 
into Portland in an old squai:e-top chaise, and, dis- 
mounting, made his way into the court-house under 
the escort of the sheriff. " He was a fine-looking 
gentleman, with the bearing of the old school ; was 
erect, portly, rather taller than the average, had a 
strongly-marked face, and his hair was tied behind 
in a club with black ribbon. To the close of his 
life he wore the old-style dress, — knee-breeches, a 
long waistcoat, and white-top boots. He was a man 
of sterling qualities of mind and heart, great integ- 
rity, and sound common sense." 

Of his children, Stephen Longfellow, the sec- 
ond child, was born in Gorham, March 23, 1776. To 
him belongs the honor of having been the father 
of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, the poet. 

He was most carefully trained in his youth, and 
was evidently fitted by his parents for a professional 



THE ANdESTKY OF THE POET. 17 

career He early gave promise of the same intellec- 
tual strength which characterized his father and 
grandfather, and was sent to Harvard College in 
1794, A college friend, two years his senior, said of 
him in later life, "He was evidently a well-bred gen- 
tleman when he left the paternal' mansion for the 
university. He seemed to breathe the atmosphere 
of purity as his native element ; while his bright 
intelligence, buoyant spirits, and social warmth, dif- 
fused a sunshine of joy that made his presence always 
gladsome." And another writer says, " that he was 
a favorite in his class is the testimony of his asso- 
ciates. But he went to college for other purposes 
than good-fellowship. He was an earnest, exemplary 
student. His scholarship entitled him to high rank ; 
and, having completed the course, he left the univer- 
sity with a full share of its honors." 

Mr. Longfellow was graduated from college in 
1798 in the class with Judge Story and Dr. Chan- 
ning ; and, on returning home, he entered the law- 
office of Salmon Chase, who was an uncle of the 
late chief justice of the United States. Three years 
later he was admitted to the bar, and at once began 
to prosper in the midst of an extensive practice. In 
1804, on the first of January, he married Zilpah,i the 
eldest daughter of Gen. Peleg Wadsworth, who was 
the son of Deacon Peleg Wadsworth of Duxbury, 
Mass., and was the fifth in descent from Christopher 
Wadsworth, who came from England and settled in 

1 By this marriage were born four sons and four daughters, — 
Steplien, Henry W. (the poet), Alexander W., Samuel, Elizabeth, 
Anne, Mary, and Ellen. 



18 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

that town before 1632, and whose known descend- 
ants in the United States are now numbered by 
thousands. 

The Peleg Wadsworth, jun., of military fame, was 
born at Duxbury, May 6, 1748 ; graduated at Har- 
vard in 1769 ; and married, in 1772, Elizabeth 
Bartlett of the same town. Their children, through 
their mother and grandmother Wadsworth, who was 
Susanna Sampson, inherited the blood of five of the 
"Mayflower" pilgrims, including Elder Brewster and 
Capt. John Alden.^ 

When was " fired the shot heard round the world," 
from the quiet meadows of Lexington and Concord, 
Peleg Wadsworth caught something of the inspira- 
tion of the hour, and was among the first to march 
in the defence of freedom. The tidings of the revo- 
lutionary struggle already begun speedily reached his 
native village ; and Wadsworth at once set about 
raising a company of minute-men, of which, in Sep- 
tember, 1775, he was commissioned captain by the 
Continental Congress then in session. In the follow- 
ing year he engineered in laying out the defences 
of Roxbury ; was an aid on the staff of Gen. Ward 
when Dorchester Heights were occupied in March 
of the same year ; and, in 1778, he was appointed 
adjutant-general of his State. 

After the failure of the Bagaduce expedition in 
the ensuing year, the British pursued a system of 
outrageous plundering on the shores of Penobscot 
Bay and the neighboring coast, in which they were 

I Memoir of Gen. Peleg Wadsworth, by Hon. William Goold, 
from which I have borrowed freely in this chapter. 



THE ANCESTKY OB^ THE POET. 19 

piloted and assisted by the numerous Tories who had 
gathered at Bagaduce and in the vicinity. In order 
to protect the people from this plundering, the Con- 
gress in 1780 ordered six hundred men to be detached 
from the three eastern brigades of the State, for eight 
months' service. The command of the whole eastern 
department, between the Piscataqua and St. Croix, 
was given to Gen. Wadsworth, with power to raise 
more troops if they were needed. He was also em- 
powered to declare and execute martial law over 
territory ten miles in width, upon the coast eastward 
of Kennebec, according to the rules of the American 
army. His headquarters were established at Thom- 
aston. 

At the expiration of the terra of service of tlie six 
hundred troops. Gen. Wadsworth was left with only 
six soldiers as a guard at his house. His family 
consisted of his wife, a son of five years of age, and 
a Miss Fenno of Boston, a particular friend of his 
wife. As soon as he was informed of Gen. Wads- 
worth's insecure position, Gen. McLane at Bagaduce 
sent forward a party of men for the purpose of mak- 
ing him a prisoner. They came in a vessel, and 
anchored four miles oif. At midnight, on the 18th 
of February, 1781, they marched on foot to the 
Wadsworth residence, where they were met by a 
most determined resistance. During the encounter, 
Gen. Wadsworth was shot in the arm, and, finding 
himself completely overpowered, surrendered, and 
was hurried off to the vessel. He was taken across 
the bay to Castine, and retained as a prisoner in Fort 
George. His treatment during this confinement was 



20 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

in every respect agreeable. Four months later Mrs.. 
Wads worth and Miss Fenno, with a passport from 
Gen. McLane, arrived at Bagaduce, and were politely 
entertained for ten days. " In the mean time," we 
are told, " orders had arrived from the commanding 
general at New York, in answer to a communication 
from Gen. McLane. Their purport was learned, from 
a hint conveyed to Miss Fenno by an officer, that the 
general was not to be exchanged, but would be sent 
to some English prison. When Miss Fenno left, she 
gave the general all the information she dared to. 
She said, ' Gen. Wadsworth, take care of yourself.' 
This the general interpreted to mean that he was to 
be conveyed to England, and he determined to make 
his escape from the fortress if possible. Soon after, a 
vessel arrived from Boston, with a flag of truce from 
the governor and council, asking for an exchange for 
the general, and bringing a sum of money for his 
use ; but the request was refused." ^ 

On the night of the 18th of June, Gen. Wads- 
worth and a fellow-prisoner, Major Burton, made 
their escape from the building in which they were 
confined, by passing through an opening made in the 
board ceiling with a gimlet. They evaded the senti- 
nels, and finally got off in safety, arriving on the 
third day at Thomaston. Gen. Wadsworth was not 
a little amazed to learn that his family had left for 
Boston. He soon followed them, pausing for a while 
at Falmouth, where he finally fixed his residence. 

How Gen. Wadsworth appeared at this time to his 
friends and family is evidenced by the following 
1 Mr. Goold, Memoir cited. 



THE ANCESTRY OF THE POET. 21 

letter, dated "Jcimiary, 1848," and written by his 
daughter Zilpah. It reads, — 

"Perhaps you would like to see my father's picture as 
it was when we came to this town (Falmouth) after the 
war of the Revolution in 1784. Imagine to yourself a 
man of middle size, well proportioned, with a military air, 
and who carried himself so truly that many thought him 
tall. His dress a bright scarlet coat, buff small clothes 
and vest, full ruffled bosom, ruffles over the hands, white 
stockings, shoes with silver buckles, white cravat bow in 
front ; hair well powdered, and tied behind in a club, so 
called. ... Of his character others may speak, but I 
cannot forbear to claim for him an uncommon share of 
benevolence and kind feeling. ' ' 

Gen. Wadsworth settled in Falmouth in 1784; and 
in December of that year he purchased, for one hun- 
dred pounds lawful money, the lot of land in Fal- 
mouth on which he erected his home. In the deed 
the purchase is described as " lying north-east of a 
lot now possessed by Capt. Arthur McLellan, being 
four rods in front, and running towards Back Cove, 
and containing one and one-half acres, being part 
of three acres originally granted to Daniel IngersoU, 
as appears on the records of the town of Falmouth, 
Book No. 1, p. 46." 1 

While he was building his house, the general and 
his family resided in a building which belonged to 
Gapt. Jonathan Paine.^ It was originally con- 

1 " Tliis is the Congress-street lot on which he erected his house 
and store." — Gookl. 

2 This house stood on what is now the south corner of Franklin 
and Congress Streets. 



22 HENKY WADSWOHTH LONGFELLOW. 

structed for a stable, but had previoiisl}' been ten- 
anted by certain families resident in the town. The 
house which Gen. Wadsworth chose to erect was 
unlike others belonging to that period. "There had 
then been no attempt in the town to construct all the 
walls of a building of brick — indeed, there had been 
no suitable brick for walls made here. At that time 
brick buildings were expected to have a projecting 
base of several courses, the top one to be of brick 
fashioned for the purpose, the outer end of which 
formed a regular moulding when laid on edge and 
endwise ; and the walls receded several inches to the 
perpendicular face. Several houses besides Gen. 
Wadsworth 's were commenced in this way. In the 
spring of 1785 the general obtained brick for his 
house in Philadelphia, including those for the base, 
and a belt above the first story. John Nichols was 
the master mason." 

The house was not finished until after the seclond 
spring; and that it was "thoroughly built," and not 
inartistic in its external appearance, all who look 
upon it to-day will bear testimony. No other brick 
house was erected in the town until three years 
later. " The Wadsworth house when originally fin- 
ished had a high pitched roof of two equal sides, 
and four chimneys. The store adjoined the house at 
the south-east, with an entrance-door from the house, 
and was of two stories. Here the general sold all 
kinds of goods needed in the town and country 
trade. His name appears in the records with some 
forty others, as licensed ' retailers ' of the town in 
1785. What time he gave up the store is uncertain." 



THE ANCESTRY OF THE J'OET. 



23 



In 1792 Geu. Wadswortli was elected to the Mas- 
sachusetts Senate, and in the same way he was also 
chosen to represent the Cumberland district in Con- 
gress. He held the last-named position until 1806, 
when he declined a re-election. Two years before 
his election to Congress, the general purchased from 




Wadsworth House. 



the State of Massachusetts 7,500 acres of wild land 
in the township on the Saco River now known as 
Hiram. He paid $937.50 for the property, or twelve 
and a half cents per acre, as early as possible he 
began to clear a farm on a large scale, and with 
what success appears from the following paragraph 
in "The Eastern Herald" of Sept. 10, 1792, pub- 
lished in Portland : — 



24 HEN^Y WADSWOliTH LONGFELLOW. 

" Gen. Wadsworth thinks he has raised more than oni* 
thousand bushels of corn this season, on burnt land, that 
is now out of danger of the frost, at a place called Great 
Ossipee, about thirty-six miles from this town. This is 
but the third year of his improvements." 

Three years after this successful result had been 
thus reported, the general settled his son, Charles 
Lee Wadsworth, on the farm, and in 1800 began 
preparations with the view of removing thither him- 
self with all his family. In the same year he com- 
meijced building a large house on the land, which 
house is still standing one mile from Hiram Village. 
We are told that "the clay for the bricks of the chim- 
neys was brought down Saco River three miles in a 
boat. This house was of two stories, with a railed 
outlook on the ridge between the two chimneys. 
There was a very- large one-story kitchen adjoining, 
with an immense chimney and fireplace. Years after 
its building, the general's youngest son, Peleg, said, 
that, at the time of the erection of the house, he was 
seven years old, and was left by his father to watch 
the fires in the eleven fireplaces, which were kindled 
to dry the new masonry, while he rode to the post- 
road for his mail, and that he had not felt such a 
weight of responsibility since. 

The Wadsworth family began housekeeping in 
their new house on New Year's Day, 1807 ; and the 
general and his son Charles at once engaged in the 
arduous duties of lumbering and farming. He 
never was so busy, however, that he could not lend 
his services in the public interest. In 1812 he was 



THE ANCESTRY OF THE POET. ' 25 

chosen selectman of the town, and continued to fill 
the office until 1818. For twelve successive years 
he was also the town treasurer: "■ He was a magis- 
trate, and was looked upon as the patriarch of the 
town. He was a patron of-education, and his home 
was the central point of the region for hospitality 
and culture. He was long a communicant of the 
Congregational Church, and so continued until his 
death at the age of eighty-one." 

Gen. Wadsworth died in 1829, having been bereft 
of his devoted wife four years before. The graves 
of the aged couple are still pointed out in a private 
enclosure on the home farm, but the original modest 
headstones have been replaced by a marble monu- 
ment of more pretentious appearance. 

Of the children of Gen. Wadsworth, of whom 
there were eleven, the following is the record: The 
eldest was born at Kingston, Mass., in 1774, and 
died in the next year at Dorchester. Charles Lee 
was born at Plymouth in January, 1776, and died 
at Hiram on Sept. 29, 1848. Zilpah, the eldest 
daughter, was born at Duxbury, Jan. 6, 1778, and 
died in Portland, March 12, 1851. Elizabeth, born 
in Boston, Sept. 21, 1779, died in Portland, Aug. 1, 
1802. John, born at Plymouth, Sept. 1, 1781, was 
graduated at Harvard in 1800, and died at Hiram, 
Jan. 22, 1860. Lucia, born at Plymouth, June 12, 
1783, died in Portland, Oct. 17, 1864. Henry, born 
at Portland, Me., on June 21, 1785, died at Tripoli, 
Sept. 4, 1804. George, born in Portland, Jan. 6, 
1788, died in Philadelphia, April 8, 1816. Alexander 
Scammell, born in Portland, May 7, 1790, died at 



26 



HENKY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 



Washington, April 5, 1851. Samuel Bartlett, born 
in Portland, Sept, 1, 1791, died at Eastport, Oct. 2, 
1874. Peleg, born in Portland, Oct. 10, 1793, died 
at Hiram, Jan. 17, 1875. 

Two of the sons of the general were officers in 
the United States Navy. At the age of nineteen, 
Henry became a lieutenant, and served in Commo- 
dore Preble's squadron before Tripoli in 1804. The 
stor}^ of his lamented death is told in the inscription 
on a marble cenotaph erected by his father to his 
memory, now visible in the Eastern Cemetery in 
Portland.^ It was from this gallant young officer, 

1 This cenotaph is near the graves o£ the captains of the Enter- 
prise and Boxer, and bears the following inscriptions: — 



[S. W. PACE.] 

In memory of 
HENRY WADSWORTH, 

— son of — 

PELIG WADSWORTH, 

Lieut. U. 8. Navy, 

— who fell — 
Before the walls of Trip- 
oli on the eve of 4th Sept., 

— 1S04 — 

in the 20th year of his age 

by the explosion of a 

— fire ship — 
which lie with others 

gallantly conducted 
against the Enemy. 



[n. e. face.] 
My country calls. 

This world adieu : 
I have one life, 
That life I give 
for you. 



[S. E. FACE.] 
Determined at once 
they prefer death and 
the destruction of 
— the Enemy — 
to captivity and tortur- 
ing slaverj-. 

Com. Preble's 
letter. 

[N. W. FACE.] 

"An honor to his 

country 

and an example to 

all excellent 

youth." 

Resolve of Congress. 

Capt. Richard Soraers, 

Lieut. Henry Wadsworth, 

Lieut. Joseph Israel, 

and 10 brave sc.imen 

volunteers 

were the devoted 

band. 



THE ANCESTRY OF THE POET. 27 

his uncle, that the poet Longfellow received his 
name. The other son, Alexander Scammell, of he- 
roic distinction, was second lieutenant of the friofate 
" Constitution " at the time of her memorable battle 
in August, 1812, in which she captured the British 
frigate " Guerriere." So well did he acquit himself 
that his fellow-townsmen of Portland presented him 
with a sword for his gallantry. Lieut. Wadsworth 
afterwards rose to the rank of commodore. 

The eldest daughter of Gen. Wadsworth is re- 
ported to have " performed her part in life as bravely, 
and died as much beloved and honored, as did her 
gallant brothers of the navy." At the time when 
her father moved into the brick house in Portland, 
Zilpah was eight years of age, and bore nobly the 
"inconveniences and discomforts of the unfinished 
quarters in which they lived while the house was 
building." In June, 1799, the first uniformed com- 
pany in Maine was organized at Portland ; and Zil- 
pah Wadsworth had the honor to present a military 
standard to the company, in behalf of the ladies of 
the town. On one side of the flag was the motto, 
"Defend the laws," and the arms of the United 
States ; on the reverse, the same arms united with 
those of the State of Massachusetts. 

In 1804 Gen. Wadsworth and his family were 
residing, as has already been stated, in the brick 
house which he had erected in Portland ; and here 
it was, probably, that Stephen Longfellow, having 
already met and loved Zilpah, was united to her in 
marriage on the first of January of that year. For 
one year after their marriage the young couple 



28 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

resided at the Wadsworth mansion. The next year 
they removed to a small two-story wooden house, 
still standing on the south corner of Congress and 
Temple Streets, immediately opposite the First 
Parish Church ; and here it was that they began 
their first housekeeping. At the same period of 
-time, a rich merchant of Portland, Samuel Stephen- 
son, was living in the large square wooden house, 
yet standing on the corner of Fore and Hancock 
Streets. His wife, Abigail Longfellow, was a sister 
of Stephen ; and, as her husband had been suddenly 
called to the West Indies on a luatter of business, 
she invited her brother, with his family, to spend 
the winter of 1806-7 with her. Thus it was, that, 
temporarily, the young lawyer changed his abiding- 
place, and became a resident in a house that hence- 
forth and for all time was to be remembered as the 
birthplace of a poet. 

After the departure of the family of Gen. Wads- 
worth to Hiram, Stephen Longfellow removed to the 
brick house, and thenceforth made it his permanent 
home. The old store, where the general had sold 
so many goods, was at once moved out of the way ; 
and in its place was built the brick vestibule at the 
east corner, over which was placed a modest sign, 
bearing the words, " Stephen Longfellow, Counsellor- 
at-Law." The eastern front-room was occupied for 
the law-office ; and within this office, it should be 
noted, " several young students read ' Coke and 
Blackstone,' who afterwards became prominent law- 
yers of Cumberland County." 

In 1814 Stephen Longfellow was sent to the 



THE ANCESTRY OF THE POET. 29 

Legislature of Massachusetts, and during his term 
of service he was also chosen a member of the cele- 
brated Hartford Convention. It was just after his 
return home that occurred the following incident. 
"While Mrs. Longfellow was indisposed, and the 
family physician was in attendance, the servant 
overheated the kitchen flue, which took fire, and 
communicated it to the attic, which the family knew 
nothing of until it broke out through the roof. Mr. 
Longfellow was the chief fire-ward of the depart- 
ment ; but his first thought was of his sick wife, 
whom he hastily inquired for of Dr. Weed. He 
told Mr. Longfellow to look to the fire, and he would 
take care of his wife. When it became evident that 
the house must be flooded, the doctor, who was a 
tall, muscular man, wrapped Mrs. Longfellow in a 
blanket, and carried her in his arms into Madame 
Preble's, the next door, — now the hotel. After it 
had nearly destroyed the roof, the fire was extin- 
guished. To give accommodation to his increasing 
family, Mr. Longfellow shortly afterwards added a 
third story to the house ; and in place of the original 
high, two-sided one, he had built a low four-sided or 
' hipped ' roof, with the chimneys the same." As 
thus repaired, " the venerable structure around which 
so much of historical interest clusters has remained 
to the present time." 

It remains for us now simply to trace the events 
of Stephen Longfellow's noblo and useful life to its 
close. Thenceforth he was largely the servant of 
his fellow-townsmen. In 1816 he was chosen a 
presidential elector, and in 1822 was elected a mem- 



30 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

ber of the Eighteenth Congress. At the close of 
his term of office he retired altogether from political 
affairs, and resolved to devote the remaining years 
of his life to the practice of his profession. He was 
not lost sight of, however, whenever work for which 
he was eminently fitted was to be performed. When 
Lafayette visited Portland, in 1825, it was Mr. Long- 
fellow who gave him the address of welcome. The 
task was most gracefully executed, and drew out 
from the valiant Frenchman the following equally 
graceful allusion to Mr. Longfellow. "While I 
offer," said Lafayette, "to the people of Portland, 
and to you, gentlemen, my respectful thanks, I am 
happy to recognize in the kind organ of their kind- 
ness to me the member of Congress who shared in 
the flattering invitation which has been to me a 
source of inexpressible honor and delight." 

Mr. Longfellow served as a trustee of Bowdoin 
College from 1817 to 1836, and received the degree 
of Doctor of Laws from the same institution in 
1828. He was recording secretary of the Maine 
Historical Society from 1825 to 1830, and in 1834 
he was elected president of the society. On the 3d 
of August, 1849, at the age of seventy-four, his life 
came to a peaceful close. " No man," says Mr. 
Willis in his " Law, Courts, and Lawyers of Maine," 
" more surely gained the confidence of all who ap- 
proached him, or held it firmer ; and those who 
knew him best loved him most. In the manage- 
ment of his causes, he went with zeal and direct- 
ness of purpose to every point which could sustain 
it. There was no travelling out of the record with 



THE ANCESTKY Or THE POET. 31 

him, nor a wandering away from the line of his 
argument after figures of speech or fine rhetoric ; 
biit he was j)lain, straightforward, and effective in 
his appeals to the jury, and by his frank and cordial 
manner won them to his cause." "Such in public 
life," says another writer, " was the father of Henry 
Wadsworth Longfellow. In the domestic circle the 
noble traits of his character were no less apparent. 
His home was one of refinement and the purest 
social virtues ; and she who shared its direction with 
him not only adorned it with rare womanly grace, 
but gave to it many* an added charm." 



32 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 



CHAPTER II. 

BIRTH AND EARLY CHILDHOOD. 

(1807-1821.) 

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW, 
second son of Stephen and Zilpah Longfellow, 
was born in Portland, Me., on the 27th of February, 
1807. 

At the tune of this interesting and now memorable 
event, the parents were, as we have already observed, 
sojourning for a season in the house of Capt. Samuel 
Stephenson, situated on that part of Fore Street 
fronting the beach, east of India Street, near where 
the paternal grandfather had lived just previous to 
the burning of the town by Mowatt in 1775. For a 
long time this had been recognized as the fashionable 
locality of the town, and not a few of the most 
prominent people in the town were dwellers along 
the line of this beach. As far back as 1632, the 
spot had been settled by George Cleaves; and, for 
nearly two centuries afterwards, it commanded a 
fine view of the harbor, the cape, and the islands of 
Casco Bay. But since, with the flight of years, the 
scene has been altered ; the beach has disappeared , 
and the waters of the harbor have been pushed 
farther out, by the land made for the extension of 



BIRTH AND EARLY CHILDHOOD. 



33 



tlie tracks of the Grand Trunk Railway, whose en- 
gine-liouse now occupies the site of Fort Loyal, cap- 
tured by the French and Indians in 1690. The 
garrison was carried captive through the wilderness 
to Montreal, the objective point of the railroad 
whose trains now start from the same spot. 

The house in which the future poet was born is 
still standing on its ancient site at the corner of 




Longfellow's Birthplace as it appears in 1882. 



Fore and Hancock Streets ; and it is a matter of con- 
gratulation, that, in the great conflagration which 
swept the city in 1866, this famous building escaped 
the devouring element. The house was built by one 
Campbell, who afterwards became known as a truck- 
man. Forty years ago it was occupied by the late 
Jedediah Dow, on the Hancock-street side, and the 



34 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

late Joshua Emery in the part fronting on the beach. 
The accompanying illustration exhibits the house 
just as it appears to-day, and, with one exceptional 
feature, just as it always appeared to the passer-by. 
The projection, which is seen on one corner, on the 
front, is an addition of latter years, built for the 
accommodation of a shop in the basement or cellar. 
But now the old mansion has seen its best days : the 
weight of years has told somewhat heavily on its 
skeleton, and its airy rooms are now tenanted by 
several families.^ 

We know not what signs prognosticated the birth 
of the young infant, whose name and fame were des- 
tined to become household words throughout the 
civilized world. But we may assume that they were 
all auspicious, even though no one could divine in 
them jjrospects of future greatness. It was for- 
tunate for any child to have been born of such 
parentage, and amid such surroundings. In the 
family circle centred all those traits of culture and 
refinement, and those pure social virtues, which can 
but impart strength to infancy, and inspire youth. 
On the one hand was a father of well-trained and 
well-balanced mind, not old in years, but yet expe- 
rienced in good works, a prominent member of the 
bar, and in the enjoyment of the respect of his 

1 The house in which the poet was born is known to all the 
school-children in Portland. One day, not long since, a teacher in 
one of the public schools, after giving divers lessons on Longfellow's 
beautiful life, asked her pupils if any of them knew where the poet 
was born. A little hand went up in a hurry; and a small voice piped 
fortli, " in Patsey Connor's bedroom," — Master Connor being now 
one of the occupants of the old Longfellow house. 



BIRTH AND EARLY CHILDHOOD. 35 

fellow-townsmen. On the other hand, a mother 
who shared with her husband all fair and noble 
traits, and who was still further adorned with a rare 
womanly grace, an evenness a«d gentleness of tem- 
per, and an affectionate regard for whatever is best 
in life. To such parents, a child, even though he 
were the second, could not have come unbidden ; 
and, such being the case, it was not jDossible for him 
not to liave combined in his own nature much that 
was admirable and common to both. If, in form and 
figure and in physiognomy, there was much that 
reminded of his mother, and of the Wadsworth side 
of the house, there were not wanting evidences of 
those marked qualities of mind and person which 
had so forcibly characterized his paternal ancestry 
through many generations. When it came time to 
bestow a name, the mother's heart went out ten- 
derly towards that gallant brother, Lieut. Henry 
Wadsworth, who, before Tripoli, surrendered his 
life while bravely serving his country ; and in token 
of him, his uncle,, \yas.the infant named. 

When the spring season had fairly opened, Ste- 
phen Longfellow moved his family into the brick 
house built by Gen. Wadsworth, and which the 
latter had forsaken not many weeks before. In this 
grand old mansion the child Henry Wadsworth 
Longfellow spent the early years of his youth. 

He had scarcely attained the age of five years, 
when it was determined, in the home circle, that he 
should be put to school. At that time the modern 
kindergarten was unknown, and not yet had school- 
masters and school-dames become conscious of the 



36 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

fact that pleasures and pastimes are potent auxilia- 
ries in a course of mental training. Not far from 
the home of the Longfellows, in Spring Street, just 
above High Street, stood a small brick schoolhouse, 
presided over by Ma'am Fellows, a most exemplary 
lady, who had " taught school '' for many years, and 
had grown gray in the practice of rigid discipline. 
She was a firm believer in the idea that " one should 
never smile in school-hours," and she exercised her 
views on this topic very much to the terror of the 
young striplings who were placed under her charge. 
" My recollections of my first teacher," said the poet, 
after the lapse of threescore and ten years, " are not 
vivid : but I recall that she was bent on giving me a 
right start in life ; that she thought that even very 
young children should be made to know the differ- 
ence between right and wrong ; and that severity of 
manner was more practical than gentleness of per- 
suasion. She inspired me with one trait, — that is, 
a genuine respect for my elders." 

For some reason, — it is forgotten what, — the boy 
did not long remain a pupil of Ma'am Fellows ; and, 
after the first vacation, he was sent by his parents to 
the town-school on Love Lane, now Centre Street, 
where he remained just a fortnight. He was then 
placed in a private school, presided over by Nathaniel 
H. Carter, which was kept in a small, one-story 
wooden building on the west side of Preble Street, 
near Congress. He continned to be a pupil at this 
school until Mr. Carter became an instructor in the 
Portland Academy, at which time he attracted many 
of his old pupils, including Henry Wadsworth, to 



BIRTH AND EARLY CHILDHOOD. 37 

his new field of labor. In those days, colleges were 
few, and academies numerous ; and of these New- 
England academies, at which those at East Hampton, 
Andover, and Exeter still survive to attest to what 
we have lost, a deservedly prominent one was that 
at Portland. Thither was young Longfellow trans- 
ferred to be prepared for college, — at first under the 
direction of Mr. Carter, and subsequently under the 
head-master, Mr. Bezaleel Cushman, a graduate of 
Dartmouth College, who assumed charge of the 
academy in 1815, and occupied the position upwards 
of twenty-six years. Mr. Cushman afterwards be- 
came one of the editors of " The New- York Evening 
Post," and, during a sojourn in Europe, furnished to 
its columns a brilliant series of letters, — then as dis- 
tinguishing a feature of metropolitan journalism as 
their absence would be at the present day. Another 
teacher, to whom belongs the honor of having im- 
parted to the future poet many valuable lessons, was 
the late Mr. Jacob Abbott, at that time an usher in 
the academy, and an apprentice in the art of school- 
teaching. ^ 

1 Jacob Abbott was born at Hallowell, Me., Nov. 14, 1803. He 
graduated from Bowdoin College in the class of 1820; studied the- 
ology at Andover from 1822 to 1824; was tutor at Amherst College in 
1824-5; and was appointed professor of mathematics in the same 
institution in 1825, and held the position until 1829; became prin- 
cipal of the Mount Vernon School (for young ladies) in Boston in 
1829, and remained there until 1834. During the next two years he 
was pastor of the Eliot Church in Roxbury. Mr. Abbott's reputation 
as an author was established by the " Young Christian " series, begun 
in 1825; but he is best known as the author of the "Rollo" books 
(28 volumes), and other stories for youth, some of which have been 
,translated into the various languages of Europe and Asia. Hi& 
death occurred on Oct. 31, 1S79. 



38 HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW 

Under such inspiring teachers, Henry Wadsworth 
Longfellow's progress was rapid ; and in 1821 he was 
able to enroll his name as a freshman in Bowdoin 
College. He was then in the fourteenth year of his 
age ; and the fact of his being ready at such an age 
for college, though not unprecedented, was early, even 
for that time, when colleges were less exacting and 
boys more precocious than now. 

Already had the boy given evidences that led 
others to the expectation that his would be a literarj^ 
career. While yet in his ninth year, he wrote his 
first verses. There is a tradition that his master 
wanted him to write a composition, a task from 
which the boy very naturally shrank. 

" You can write words, can you not ? " asked the 
teacher. 

"Yes," was the response. 

" Then, you can put words together ? " 

" Yes, sir." 

" Then," said the instructor, " you may take your 
slate, and go out behind the schoolhouse, and there 
you can find something to write about ; and then 
you can tell what it is, what it is for, and what 
is to be done with it ; and that will be a compo- 
sition." 

Henry took his slate and went out. He went be- 
hind Mr. Finney's barn, which chanced to be near ; 
and, seeing a fine turnip growing up, he thought he 
knew what that was, what it was for, and what would 
be done with it. 

A half-hour had been allowed young Henry for his 
first undertaking in writing compositions. Within 



BIRTH AND EARLY CHILDHOOD. 39 

the prescribed time he carried in his work, all ac- 
complished, and surprised his teacher.^ 

When the boy was barely thirteen years of age, 
and still a pjupil at the Portland Academy, he com- 
posed a bolder effort, which is still preserved in man- 
uscript, entitled "Venice, an Italian Song." The 
manuscript is dated " Portland Academy, March 
17, 1820," and is signed with the full name of the 
writer. 

The first published poem of young Longfellow was 
on " Lovewell's Fight." It was composed while he 
was attending the academy, and just after he had been 
reading an account of the French and Indian war. 
Having written it to his taste, and copied it neatly 
on a fresh sheet of paper, it suddenly occurred to 
him that it was worthy of being printed. The young 
author had never yet seen aught of his compositions 
in type ; and, unlike many writers of later day, he 
was extremely shy about making a beginning. But 
the persuasion of one of his schoolfellows overcame 
his modesty; and so, late on a certain evening, he 
mustered up courage to go and drop the manuscript 
into the editorial-box of one of the two weekly 
newspapers then published in the town. He waited 
patiently for the next issue of the paper, and was 
not a little chagrined to find, that, when it did ap- 
pear, — the poem was left out. The weeks flew by, 
and still the poem remained unpublished. In a fit 
of disgust, the young author repaired to the editorial 

1 Mr. Owen first related to me this anecdote. The poem, how- 
ever, is not in existence; though what i>urports to he the poem (a 
composition of recent dale and hy other hands) is, I observe, afloat 
in the newspapers. 



40 HENRY WADS WORTH LOiXGFELLOW. 

sanctum, and demanded the return of the manuscript. 
The request was granted; and Longfellow then car- 
ried it to the editor of the rival newspaper, — " The 
Portland Gazette," — by whom it was accepted and 
published. Thenceforth the poet was at liberty to 
print in the columns of the journal whatever he 
might happen to write ; nor did he permit the oppor- 
tunity to slip by unimproved.^ 

And now, for a few moments, let us glance at some 
of the surroundings of the young poet. It is interest- 
ing at all times to note the early surroundings of a 
great man, whatever may be the field of his great- 
ness ; and especially is this true of a great poet, who 
has woven into his verses, as has Longfellow, so many 
recollections of his boyhood. The year 1807 is not 
only illustrious on account of the birth of Longfel- 
low : it was also a year of marked events in the his- 
tory of the place of his birth. It witnessed the 
beginning of many things whose influence impressed 
the mind of Longfellow, and still remains with the 
people of the town. In this year Avas also born 
another poet in Portland, — the late Nathaniel P. 
Willis ; ^ in the same yearc, the Rev. Edward Paj^son 
began, as the colleague of Rev. Elijah Kellogg, his 

1 Mr. Longfellow was exceedingly fond of this theme, and once 
told me that he intended sometime to write on it again. Several 
amusing incidents grew out of our search for an old ballad on Love- 
well's Fight, which he was very anxious to obtain. I shall allude 
to these in a later chapter. 

^ Nathaniel Parker Willis was born in Portland, Jan. 20, 1807. Re- 
moved to Boston, wliere he attended the Latin School, and subse- 
quently Phillips Academy at Andover ; was graduated from Yale 
College in the class of 1827. He then entered upon that literary 
career which gave him fame and fortune, and which he continued 
almost to the close of his life. He died Jan. 20, 18G7. 



BIRTH AND EARLY CHILDHOOD. 



41 



wonderful pastorate of twenty years in Portland ; in 
the same year, the third parish meeting-house, in 
which the late Rev. Dr. Dwight so long officiated, 
was built. But perhaps the most memorable event 
of all others was the fact that the commerce of Port 
land, which had gone on increasing with giant 
strides for a period of more than ten years, and had 




The Old Wharf. 



at length reached a high state of prosperity, suddenly 
fell, in 1807, under the crushing stroke of the em- 
bargo, and caused ruin and disaster throughout the 
entire community. It was the culmination of a 
period of great prosperity, and the beginning of a 
season of adversity, ending in the calamities of war. 
Navigation fell off nine thousand tons in two years: 



42 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

all the various classes to whom it gave support were 
thrown out of employment, and many large houses 
were forced to suspend payment. The greatest dis- 
tress prevailed everywhere, and "the grass literally 
grew upon the wharves." 

Five years later came the second war with Eng- 
land, which, for the time being, gave a slight impulse 
to activity. Several privateers were fitted out, com- 
panies were organized, and fortifications were thrown 
up on Munjoy's Hill, at the north-eastern extremity 
of the Neck, and garrisons were established in them. 
Here begin the recollections of the poet, then a boy 
of six years of age, as recorded in his poem of " My 
Lost Youth." 

" I remember the bulwarks by the shore, 
And the fort upon the hill ; 
The sunrise gun, with its hollow roar, 
The drum-beat repeated o'er and o'er. 
And the bugle wild and shrill. 
And the music of that old song 
Throbs in my memory still : 
' A boy's will is the wind's will. 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'" 

On Sept. 4, 1813, "The Boxer," British brig of 
war, Capt. S. Blythe, was captured off the Maine 
coast by the American brig " Enterprise," Lieut. W. 
Burrows, and on the morning of the seventh was 
brought into Portland Harbor. On the next day 
both commanders, who had been killed in the en- 
counter, were buried with imposing and impressive 
ceremonies in the cemetery at the foot of Munjoy's 



BIRTH AND EARLY CHILDHOOD. 43 

Hill. The poet thus records his recollection of this 
solemn event : — 

" I remember the sea-fight far away, 
How it thundered o'er the tide ! 
And the dead captains, as they lay 
In their graves, o'erlooking the tranquil bay, 
Where they in battle died." 

Peace came in 1815, and not before this event 
did the town fully recover from the hardships occa- 
sioned by the embargo. For several years afterwards, 
prosperity and the population increased slowly but 
surely. In the year 1800, there were 3,704 inhabit- 
ants in the town ; in 1810, they had increased to 
7,169 ; and in 1820, there were but 8,581. It is in 
this little town of barely 8,000 inhabitants that we 
have now to picture to ourselves as the scene, of 
Longfellow's boyhood, — 

" The beautiful town 
That is seated by the sea." 

It lay chiefly on the narrow peninsula, or " Neck," 
in the depression between the two hills which mark 
its extremities, — Munjoy Hill and Bramhall. With- 
in the space of two centuries, the ground had become 
historic. It was a pleasant site, not then, as now, 
hemmed in by new-made land encroaching on the^ 
sea. It commanded a full view of the waters of the 
bay, and those 

" Islands that were the Hesperides 
Of all my boyish dreams." 



44 



HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 



Almost in front of the birthplace of the poet, and 
skirting the road on the seaward side, lay the beach, 
the scene of many a baptism on a sabbath-day. But 
it was not here that the poet spent his boyhood ; for, 
with the growth of the town, his parents moved on, 




Birthplace of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 



and, at a later period, established themselves in what 
is now the heart of the city. 

With the revival of commerce after the war, trade 
with the West Indies sprang up ; and " low-decked 
brigs carried out cargoes of lumber and dried fish, 
bringing back sugar, rum, and molasses." The dis- 
charging of a full cargo was wont to set the whole 
town in an uproar, and the wharves (chiefly Long 



BIRTH AND EARLY CHILDHOOD, 45 

Wharf and Portland Pier) "resounded with tlie 
songs of the negro stevedores hoisting the hogsheads 
from the hold without the aid of a winch : the long- 
trucks with heavy loads were tugged by straining 
horses, under the whips and loud cries of the truck- 
men. Liquor was lavislily supplied to laboring men, 
and it made them turbulent and uproarious." 

A well-known author, who has done not a little 
to unfold the glories and to preserve the old-time 
recollections of his native State (the Rev. Elijah Kel- 
logg),i has given us the following lively picture of 
Portland at this time, on a winter morning : — 

" Then you might have seen lively times. A string 
of board-teams from George Libby's to Portland 
Pier ; sleds gro\yling ; surveyors running about like 
madmen, a shingle in one hand and a rule-staff in 
the other; cattle white with frost, and their nostrils 
hung with icicles ; teamsters screaming and halloo- 
ing ; Herrick's tavern and Huckler's Row lighted 
up, and the loggerheads hot to give customers their 
morning-dram." 

Of such scenes as these, and of others which com- 
mingled with them, the poet sings, — 

" I remember the black wharves and the slips, 

And the sea-tides tossing free ; 
And Spanish sailors with bearded lips, 
And the beauty and niystery of the ships, 

And the magic of the sea." 

1 Now known as the author of the " Ehn Island" stories, the 
"Pleasant Cove" series, the "Whispering Pine" series, etc. His 
story of Good Old Times abounds in pleasant pictures of life in the 
early days in the State of iSIaine, and, though written for young 
people, will be heartily enjoyed by older readers. 



46 HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

At this time also, Portland had quite a lumber- 
trade ; and, as if this were not enough to cause a 
tumult, it had furthermore its distilleries and tan- 
neries and ropewalks and a pottery. The two last 
impressed themselves on the mind of the boy Long- 
fellow, and, after many years, suggested to him the 
poem of " The Ropewalk," whose familiar stanzas, 
begin as follows : — 

" In that building, long and low, 
With its windows all a-row, 

Like the port-holes of a hulk, 
Human spiders spin and spin, 
Backward down their threads so thin 

Dropping, each a hempen bulk. 



All these scenes do I behold, 
These, and many left untold. 

In that building long and low ; 
While the wheel goes round and round, 
With a drowsy, dreamy sound, 

And the spinners backward go." 

Also the poem " Keramos," — 

"Turn, turn, my wheel ! Turn round and round 
Without a pause, without a sound ; 
So spins the flying world away ! " 

But let us go back over threescore 5''ears, and look 
farther into the heart of the " dear old town.'' In 
Middle Street, blocks of brick stores have already 
begun to take the place of the dwelling-houses, 
where once lived many of the gentry of the town. 
Market Square is, on all sides, surrounded by small 
wooden shops ; and on the left, as we enter the 



BIRTH AND EARLY CHILDHOOD. 47 

square, stands Marston's tavern, to which Mowatt 
was taken as a prisoner by Col. Thompson and his 
men, in June, 1775. Not far off, in the centre of 
the square, stand the hay-scales, and next to them 
the market-house, and, just beyond, a small row of 
wooden shops, terminating in "a heater," nearly 
opposite the head of Preble Street. At the corner 
of Preble Street stands the brick mansion, sur- 
rounded with a spacious garden, of the widow of 
Commodore Edward Preble, the hero of Tripoli; 
and adjacent, "somewhat back from the village 
street," is the brick house built by Gen. Wadsworth, 
and, since 1807, occupied by Stephen Longfellow, 
Esq. This is the home — not the birthplace, be it 
remembered — of the future poet. 

In front of these mansions, extending from Preble 
nearly to Brown Street, is the wood-market, " where 
the teams, loaded with cord-wood brought in from the 
country, stand, beneath the shade of a row of trees, 
with a railing between them and the sidewalk. The 
patient oxen feed upon the hay thrown upon the 
ground, while the wood-surveyor measures the loads, 
and the teamsters bargain with the townsmen." Not 
far off stands " The Freemasons' Arms," the tavern 
erected by Thomas Motley, grandfather of Thomas 
Lothrop Motley, the historian of the Netherlands. 
At this time, however. Motley is dead ; and the tavern 
is kept by Sukey Barker. A short distance beyond 
Motley's, Oak Street enters Main Street ; and in the 
former thoroughfare we catch a glimpse of a grove 
of thrifty red-oaks : and next beyond is Green Street, 
which leads down to Deering's Woods, where for 



48 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

generations the boys of Portland have gathered 
acorns, and of which the poet sings, — 

" And Deering's Woods are fresh and fair; 
And with joy that is almost pain 
My heart goes back to wander there, 
And among the dreams of the days that were, 
I find my lost youth again." 

Coincident with the progress of commercial enter- 
prise was the growth of literature. Parson Thomas 
Smith had already jotted down his quaint observa- 
tions on life in Falmouth, and later generations were 
perusing them with more than ordinary interest. 
His associate and colleague, the Rev. Dr. Deane, 
had, in 1790, published his " Georgical Dictionary," 
which was now the authority in all matters pertain- 
ing to agriculture. The same author had also sung 
the praises of " Pitchwood Hill " in verse. In 1816, 
however, occurred the literary event in Portland, 
which was long to be remembered, namely, the pub- 
lication of Enoch Lincoln's poem of " The Village," 
of upwards of two thousand lines, "remarkable for 
its advanced moral sentiment, anticipating many of 
the reforms of our day, as well as for its erudition 
and its evenly sustained poetical merit." ^ 

1 Enoch Lincoln, a son of Levi Lincoln, was horn in Worcester, 
Mass., in 1788. Studied at Harvard, became a lawyer in 1811, and 
settled at Fryeburg, Me., — the scenery of which beautiful forest-town 
he described in his poem of The Village, published in 181(5. He 
was a member of Congress from 1818 to 1820, and governor of Maine 
from 1827 to 1829. He delivered a poem at the centennial celebration 
of the Lovewell's Pond Fight, was a warm friend of the Indians, and 
left behind liim valuable historical manuscripts. He died Oct. 8, 
1829. 



BIRTH AND EAKLY CHILDHOOD. 49 

Education was advancing, and "a number of 
young- men were coming upon the stage of action 
who were to shed the lustre of letters upon the 
town." Among these were Nathaniel Deering, born 
in Portland in 1791, whose five-act tragedies — " Car- 
rabassett" and "Bozzaris" — have been much ad- 
mired ; John Neal, born in 1793, whose vigorous 
poem, " The Battle of Niagara," was published in 
1816, and awakened much enthusiasm ; and Gren- 
ville Mellen, born in Biddeford in 1799, who came to 
Portland during his early manhood. Among these 
elders walked the boy Longfellow, interested in what 
they produced, and profiting by what they taught, 
who would yet outstrip them all. 

In social life democratic ideas were prevalent, 
not alone in matters of dress, but also of etiquette. 
" Cocked hats, bush wigs, and knee-breeches are 
passing out, and pantaloons have come in. Old 
men still wear cues and spencers, and disport their 
shrunken shanks in silk stockings. A homely style 
of speech prevails among the common people. Old 
men are 'daddies,' old ladies are 'marms,' ship- 
masters are ' skippers,' and school-teachers are ' mas- 
ters.' There are no stoves, and open fires and 
brick ovens are in universal use. The fire is 
raked up at night, and rekindled in the morning 
by the use of flint, steel, and tinder-boxes. Nearly 
every house has its barn, in which is kept the cow, 
pastured during the day on Munjoy. The boys 
go after the cows at nightfall, driving them home 
through the streets. There are few private carriages 
kept in town, and fewer public vehicles. 



50 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

" The coin in circulation is chiefly Spanish dollars, 
halves, quarters, pistareens, eighths, and sixteenths, 
— the latter two of which are known as ninepence 
and fourpence "alf-pennies. Federal money is so little 
recognized that prices are still reckoned ii: ohillings 
and pence, — two and six, three and ninepence, seven 
and sixpence. 

" It is a journey of two days, by the accommoda- 
tion stage, to Boston, costing eight to ten dollars. 
If you go by the mail-stage, you may be bounced 
through, with aching bones, in the hours between 
two o'clock in the morning and ten at night ; or you 
may take a coaster, and perhaps be a week on the 
passage." 

There were two newspapers published in the 
town, — " The Portland Gazette " and " The Eastern 
Argus," — both appearing once a week. Amuse- 
ments were scarce, and not before 1820 were the- 
atrical performances sanctioned. In the summer 
season well-to-do people went on excursions among 
the islands, and occasionally there was a capsize with 
loss of life. During the winter sleighing-parties 
drove out to " Broad's " for a dance and a supper. 
At such times hearts were merry ; and, it is no secret, 
flip and punch flowed freely, rendering sobriety the 
exception and not the rule. 

Such was " the beautiful town that is seated by 
the sea ; " and such were the scenes to which the 
thoughts of the poet go back, in after years, with 
a man's love for the haunts of his childhood.^ 

1 I am under deep obligation to ray friend, Mr. Edward H. 
Elwell of The Portland Transcript, who has permitted me to make 



BIRTH AND EARLY CHILDHOOD. 51 

Here he recalled the sports of boyhood, and found 
his "lost youth again." 

In passing, I must not forget to mention at least 
one of the friends and associates of Longfellow's 
early boyhood, — his cousin, John Owen. He was 
born in Portland in 1806, and, with Longfellow, 
attended the school of Ma'am Fellows, also the Port- 
land Academy. They were subsequently students 
together in Bowdoin College ; though they were not 
in the same class, Owen being a member of the 
class of 1827. 

After his graduation, Owen came to Cambridge 
and studied divinity. He never preached much, how- 
ever, and soon made choice of a business, in prefer- 
ence to a professional career. In 1834 he entered 
into the book business in Cambridge, and in 1836 
became sole proprietor, his former partners having 
sold out their interest in the same. He failed in 
1848, and the store (which, by the wa}'', was on the 
corner of Holyoke and Main Streets where a jeweller's 
shop now stands) went back into the hands of its 
original proprietors. Thenceforth Mr. Owen spent 
his time almost wholly in study and literary pursuits, 
at the same time doing what he could to improve and 
adorn the spacious grounds that surrounded his 
home. 

The intimacy existing between the poet and his 
friend Owen was lifelong : indeed, the relation of 
friendship was a bond of union more like that which 

free use of the very interesting memoir ou The Portland of Long- 
fellow's Youth, which he wrote and published at the time of the 
Longfellow birthday celebration. 



52 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

has subsisted between Emerson and Alcott. Long- 
fellow was the gentlest of poets ; and doubtless the 
chief attraction for him in the society and companion- 
ship of his cousin lay in Mr. Owen's gentle and 
amiable traits of character. 

In the course of these memoirs, I shall have occa- 
sion to quote freely Mr. Owen's recollections of that 
unalloyed friendship which extended over nearly 
three-quarters of a century. He it was who best 
knew and appreciated the poet's onward march to 
fame, was the mild counsellor in all his work, and 
the trusted Achates to whom he might repair in 
times of trial and perplexity for sympathy and en- 
couragement. 



COLLEGE DAYS. 53 



CHAPTER III. 

COLLEGE DAYS. 

{1821-1826.) 

IN his anonymous prose romance called " Fan- 
shawe," ^ a book, by the by, which more nearly 
approaches a novel than any of his later works,. 
Hawthorne has pictured some of the aspects of the 
college at Brunswick. He says, — 

" From the exterior of the collegians, an accurate 
observer might pretty safely judge how long they 
had been inmates of those classic walls. The brown 
cheeks and the rustic dress of some would inform 
him that they had but recently left the plough to la- 
bor in a not less toilsome field. The grave look, and 
the intermingling of garments of a more classic cut, 
would distinguish those who had begun to acquire 
the polish of their new residence ; and the air of 
superiority, the paler cheek, the less robust form, the 
spectacles of green, and the dress in general of 

1 Fanshawe was published three years after Hawthorne's gradu- 
ation, in Boston, by Marsh & Capen; but " so successful was Haw- 
thorne in his attempt to exterminate the edition, that not half a 
dozen copies are now known to be extant." It is affirmed to be 
" a faint reflection from the young Salem recluse's mind of certain 
rays thrown across the Atlantic from Abbotsford." For further 
particulars the reader is referred to A Study of Hawthorne, by 
G. P. Lathrop, Boston, 1876. 



54 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

threadbare black, would designate the highest class, 
who were understood to have acquired nearly all the 
science their Alma Mater could bestow, and to be on 
the point of assuming their stations in the world. 
There were, it is true, exceptions to this general 
description. A few young men had found their way 
hither from the distant seaports ; and these were the 
models of fashion to their rustic companions, over 
whom they asserted a superiority in exterior accom- 
plishments, which the fresh, though unpolished, intel- 
lect of the sons of the forest denied them in their 
literary competitions. A third class, differing widely 
from both the former, consisted of a few young de- 
scendants of the aborigines, to whom an impracticable 
philanthropy was endeavoring to impart the benefits 
of civilization. 

" If this institution did not offer all the advan- 
tages of elder and prouder seminaries, its deficien- 
cies were compensated to its students by the incul- 
cation of regular habits, and of a deep and awful 
sense of religion, which seldom deserted them in 
their course through life. The mild and gentle rule 
was more destructive to vice than a sterner sway ; 
and, though youth is never without its follies, they 
have seldom been more harmless than they were 
here. The students, indeed, ignorant of their own 
bliss, sometimes wished to hasten the time of their 
entrance on the business of life ; but the}'" found, in 
after-years, that many of their happiest remem- 
brances, many of the scenes which they would with 
least reluctance live over again, referred to the seat 
of their early studies." 



COLLEGE DAYS. 55 

It is noted by his biographer, that, in the passages 
above quoted, Hawthorne " divides the honors pleas- 
antly between the forest-bred and city-trained youth, 
having, from his own experience, an interest in each 
class ; yet I think he must have sided, in fact, with 
the country boys." ^ 

The father and great-grandfather of the poet were 
graduates of Harvard College. It may seem a little 
singular, that, with this precedent, Henry Wadsworth 
Longfellow should have been sent to Bowdoin Col- 
lege. At the beginning of the century the college 
at Brunswick was scarcely known, except to its 
incorporators; and it was not until 1802 that the 
first class was admitted. The first graduating class 
numbered seven: and among the students of this 
period were Charles S. Davies, subsequently an emi- 
nent lawyer ; and Nathan Lord, for many years pres- 
ident of Dartmouth College.^ 

In 1819 the second president of Bowdoin died; 
and the Rev. William Allen, a graduate of Har- 
vard, and at the time president of Dartmouth, 
was chosen as his successor. In many respects his 
administration was a memorable one, and "into his 
retirement he carried the respect and esteem which 
are the desert of sincere and laborious service. His 
term of service was highly fruitful." Dr. Shepley 
says of him, that he " performed well the duties of his 
station. He may have been a little too unbending, 
have passed a student without recognition, or unde- 

1 A study of Hawthorne, p. 110. 

.2 See an interesting article on Bowdoin College, in Scribner's 
Monthly for May, 1876, written by Mr. G. T. Packard. 



56 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

sirably mistaken a name or person. His hymn-book 
was one of those mistakes of which no good account 
<3an be given. He was nevertheless a scholar, a gen- 
tleman, a friend of the students, an able preacher, and 
an efficient helper of ministers and churches. The 
incidents of his administration, both at Bowdoin and 
previously at Dartmouth, were full of interest ; in- 
volving, as they did, the investigation of great ques- 
tions, calling into service the best legal talent in 
the country, and issuing in judicial decisions impor- 
tant to all educational and charitable corporations." ^ 
Associated with him in the several departments 
were John Abbott, A.M., a graduate of Harvard, the 
professor of languages ; Parker Cleaveland, " in 
abilit}^ and brilliancy not excelled by any college 
officer of his time," who filled the chair of mathe- 
matics and natural philosophy ; the Rev. William 
Jenks, the professor of the Oriental and English 
languages ; and Samuel P. Newman, whose depart- 
ment was that of Greek and Latin until 1824, when 
he was succeeded in the same department by Al- 
pheus S. Packard, who since 1819 had been a tutor 
in the institution. Professor Packard — still living — 
has been a member of the faculty since the last-men- 
tioned date, — sixty -three years. Addressed to his 
old teacher were certain lines in Longfellow's 
" Morituri Salutamus," a poem prepared for the 
semi-centennial of his class, and recited by him in 

1 I quote from a valuable paper on the class of '25 in Bowdoin 
College, read by the Rev. Dr. David Shepley of Providence, R.I., 
at a meeting of Congregational ministers in October, 1875, Dr. 
Shepley was a classmate of Longfellow at Bowdoin College. His 
<leatli occurred in November, 1881. 



COLLEGE DAYS. 57 

1875. After speaking of the teachers who had led 
their " bewildered feet through learning's maze," the 
poet continues, — 

"They are no longer here: they all are gone 
Into the land of shadows, — all save one. 
Honor and reverence, and the good repute 
That follows faithful service as its fruit, 
Be unto him, whom living we salute." 

By far the most noted, if not the most beloved, 
of all the Bowdoin professors, was Parker Cleave- 
land, who, after fifty-three years of faithful work, was 
stricken down at his post in 1858. In the sphere 
of his teaching and oversight he was truly the "" gen- 
ius of the place ; " while distinguished honors from 
home and abroad testified to the important work 
of " the Father of American Mineralogy," as he was 
often termed. It is related that "an accident di- 
rected Professor Cleaveland's special attention to the 
study of mineralogy. Some laborers, in blasting 
near the river, upturned what looked like gold and 
precious stones, and hurried to the professor's room 
with their treasure. To their anxious inquiry he 
returned a diplomatic response, being in doubt as to 
the quality of the specimens, and subsequently for- 
warded the minerals to Professor Dexter of Harvard 
University, who confirmed Professor Cleaveland's 
analysis, and, in return, sent to Bowdoin selections 
from his own cabinet. At a felicitous moment. Pro- 
fessor Cleaveland printed a work on mineralogy, 
which was warmly praised by leading scientists in this 
country and in Europe. Humboldt, Sir David Brew- 



58 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

ster, Sir Humphry Davy, Baron Cuvier, the Abbe 
Haiiy, and many others, welcomed hnn to the frater- 
nity of investigators ; and invitations to teach in the 
leading colleges of the country showed the home ap- 
preciation of his remarkable abilities. Nor did the 
professor pass by the science of chemistry : in that 
department, likewise, he was a proficient. Besides 
the regular lectures in college, he gave courses of 
popular addresses, fully illustrated, in the towns 
of the State. A slight drawback to these scientific 
excursions deserves to be recorded. The professor's 
apparatus was moved from town to town by a yoke 
of oxen. His appearances, therefore, were few and 
far between ; and these visits of enlightenment were 
finally abandoned." 

It is of this " grand old teacher " that Longfellow 
speaks in a sonnet written during his visit to Bruns- 
wick in the summer of 1875 : — 



■' Among the many lives that I have known, 

None I remember more serene and sweet, 
More rounded in itself and more complete, 

Than his who lies beneath this funeral stone. 

These pines, that murmur in low monotone. 
These walks frequented by scholastic feet, 
Were all liis world: but in this calm retreat 

For him the teacher's chair became a throne. 

With fond affection memory loves to dwell 
On the old days, when his example made 
A pastime of the toil of tongue and pen ; 

And now, amid the groves he loved so M'ell 

That naught could lure him from their grateful shade. 
He sleeps, but wakes elsewhere, for God hath said, 
' Amen ! ' " 




PROFESSOR CLEAVELAND ON THE LECTURE-PATH. 



60 HEKRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

With such men as teachers, — all of them ^yell 
equipped, and in love with their work, — it is not to 
be wondered at that the attractions of Bowdoin Col- 
lege were such as to induce so many of the best 
families in the State of Maine to send their sons 
thither. To be sure, the college at Brunswick was 
young and poor, and not widely known : but it had 
a great and grand future before it, and the day was 
soon to dawn when it should send forth oraduates 
wliose fame would reach round the civilized world. 
-Its growth was rapid, but at the same time health- 
ful. In 1802 the college embraced but one building, 
in which, for a time, all the officers and students were 
sheltered, and the chapel and recitation-rooms were 
located. Five or six years later Maine Hall was 
erected, and the process of augmentation and in- 
crease went steadily on ; so that, at about the close 
of the first quarter of the present century, the insti- 
tution presented an outward view in everj^ way 
respectable. 

It was in September, 1821, that Henry Wads worth 
Longfellow, together with his elder brother Stephen, 
entered the freshman class in Bowdoin College. The 
former was just in the last half of his fifteenth year, 
and at this time was, as remembered b}^ one of his 
teachers, " an attractive youth, with auburn locks, 
clear, fresh, blooming complexion, and, as might be 
presumed, of well-bred manners and bearing." ^ 

And one of his classmates thus writes : " I remem- 
ber him (Longfellow) distinctly as of fresh, youthful 
appearance, as uniformly regular and studious in 
i Professor A. S. Packard, still living in Brunswick, Me. 



62 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

his habits, rather disinclined to general intercourse, 
maintaining a high rank as a scholar, and distin- 
guished especially for the excellence of his composi- 
tions, as was Hawthorne also. Such was his temper- 
ament that it appeared easy for him to avoid the 
unworthy." ^ 

Still another says, " When I first became ac- 
quainted with Longfellow, just after we had been 
dismissed from a recitation in Greek, I thought him 
very unsocial; but further acquaintance showed to 
me that what I had mistaken for indifference, and an 
unwillingness to form new friendships, was merely a 
natural modesty. I soon found him to be one of the 
truest of friends." ^ 

One who was not intimate with him in college, 
but was yet a member of the same class, informs 
us, that, "-in his recitations, he was rather slow of 
speech, and appeared absorbed, but was almost al- 
ways correct, if not always. He stood high. I should 
judge he must have been amiable in his social in- 
tercourse, never aggressive, but well calculated to 
secure friends." ^ 

At the time when Longfellow entered Bowdoin 
College, the class numbered forty-four members ; and 
most of these were born and reared in the State of 
Elaine. The average age was from fifteen to sixteen, 
though some of the students had already attained 
their twent3"-fourth birthday. While a few had been 
prepared for the collegiate course by private instruct- 

1 Charles Jeffrey Abbott, Esq., of Castine, ]\Ie. 

2 Horatio Bridge, Esfj., of Wasliingtou, D.C. 

3 Professor Nathaniel Dunn of New- York City. 



COLLEGE DAYS. 63 

ors, b}' far the majorit}' came from well-recognized 
and well-known schools of a preparatory order. It is 
remembered, that at least one came from Phillips 
Academy at Andover, and quite a number from 
Phillips Academy at Exeter. More than half had 
been previously taught by Mr. Cushman at the Port- 
land Academy ; and the remainder had emanated 
from schools at Gorham, Saco, Hallowell, Augusta, 
and Monmouth. 

" The fitting given at Andover and Exeter," says 
one of the members of the class of 1825, " was ex- 
cellent. The noble, hard-working, youth-loving men 
at other locations named (I love to praise them), 
knew well that their pupils needed more than they 
had time or means to do for them. For what they 
did, they deserved admiration ; for what they did not 
do, they were not themselves accountable. They 
were ready to impart their own clothing to a needy 
student, Thej^ cared for their pupils while with 
them, and after they had gone, as if they had been 
their own sons." ^ 

It has often been remarked, that the days of youth 
are the happiest in human life ; and equally true is 
it, that the years spent in college are the most memo- 
rable. The attachments formed during our student- 
career are never forgotten : other and later friends 
may come to us, time and space may intervene ; but 
those who together with us endeavored to climb 
liigh up the ladder of learning forever linger in our 
memories, — their names and their faces are with us 
always. Those who were students a half-century 

1 Kev. Dr. Sliepley. 



64 HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

ago will more readily understand this assertion, per- 
haps, than those who are but recent graduates. In 
the earlier time, our colleges were fewer, and perhaps 
poorer, and the classes were never large ; to-day, col- 
leges are many, the endowments are liberal, and in 
many cases the classes number many members. For- 
merly a student could know and associate with all 
of his fellow-students ; now it frequently happens 
that no student is acquainted with more than half 
the members of his class, while perhaps he has never 
been intimate with more than a limited few. It is 
not difficult to find the reason for the last-named 
circumstance. 

In the daj^s of which I write, much interest was 
felt in the progress and growth of the college at 
Brunswick, especially so by, " the best citizens of 
Maine, who talked of it, planned for it, and were oft 
seen in its halls." To be sure, it Avas neither the 
oldest, nor indeed the best, collegiate institution in 
America ; and, because of its moderate means, the 
college could not afford the services of a large corps 
of instructors. But, with perhaps a single excep- 
tion, such teachers as lield positions at Bowdoin were 
men of unqualified worth, and most excellent ability. 
They were not afraid of work, and they were devoted 
to all who came under their charge. If the}^ had a 
fault, it was that of bestowing too much time, and 
too varied service, for too little money. But their 
records live after them I 

And now let us glance hastily at some of the mem- 
bers of the Bowdoin class of 1825. A more remark- 
able class never gathered under an American college 



COLLEGE DAYS. 65 

roof-tree. " When we think," says the venerablie 
Professor Packard, writing in the present year, "of 
the distinction that has crowned the class of 1825, 
a teacher may be charged with singuhir kick of dis- 
crimination and interest in his pupils, who is com- 
pelled to confess how scanty are his particular remi- 
niscences of its members ; and this for the plain 
reason, that no one knew, or even dreamed it may be, 
how famous some of them were to become. I think 
it is a tradition that Luther — if not he, some re- 
nowned German teacher — used to doff his hat rev- 
erently when he entered his schoolroom. On being 
asked why he did so, ' Because,' said he, ' I see in 
my pupils future burgomasters and syndics of the 
city.' . . . Were we blind, and dull of appreciation, 
that we did not forecast, during those four years, two 
lives — one in the front seat of the class-room, and 
one in the third seat back — which were to have 
names in the prose and poetry of the ages, lasting 
as the language in which their genius found expres- 
sion ? " 

Nor indeed is it surprising that future greatness 
was not forecasted in a single instance. It may have 
been said, at the time, that they who attained the 
highest rank in college were the men to be heard of 
again in after-life. But it is interesting to examine 
farther the assertion. " Little always held the first 
place. Four, well entitled to do it, came next. About 
seven, now in order, were perhaps in merit not very 
unequal, and, with the usages of the present day, 
might not have been distinguished from each other. 
The same may have been substantially true of each 



66 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

of two companies of seven that followed ; and I must 
not fail to say, that, of those who took no part in the 
exercises of commencement, several had been dis- 
closed as more than ordinary men." ^ 

As is often the case, several members of the class 
might easily have reached a higher rank if they had 
been more thoroughly prepared, or had been more 
mature , or others, if they had studied more diligently. 
Some were scarcely distinguished at all during their 
college-days, though it was not because they did not 
wish to be ; and of these quite a number achieved 
renown in subsequent life. 

It is never fair to judge any class by the standard 
of its freshman year ; for not yet have the students 
become fully impressed with that sense of duty to 
themselves and justice to others which maturer ex- 
perience in college almost always affords. The self- 
consciousness of the yearling, it matters not where 
he may be found, is strongly marked, and only proves 
him to be as yet little more than a boy. During his 
second and third years, he begins to realize what he 
is doing, and for what, and to cast his eyes outside 
of the college precincts, and to reflect on what may 
possibly await him there in "the years yet to come."' 

It was during the sophomore year that signs of 
future greatness began to manifest themselves. The 
college societies, or clubs, afforded ample opportuni- 
ties for the display of talent : and it appeared then 
that Bradbury, Cilley, Benson, and Little were to 
be among the statesmen of the future , that Dean 
was the metaplnsician ; Weld and Mason, the nat- 

' Kuv. Dr. Shepley. 



COLLEGE DAYS. 67 

uralists ; and Cheever and Pierce, after Longfellow 
and Hawthorne, the " experts in belles-lettres. ''"' The 
future poet was Mellen, not Longfellow who at this 
time had the credit of "writing verses only as a pas- 
time." Poor Dean died just before graduation day, 
tlius rendering sorrowful what must otherwise have 
been a most joyous event. 

Of those who foreshadowed prominence in later 
life, I must mention Josiah L. Little, who came to 
Bowdoin from Exeter, thoroughly trained, strong in 
body, and keen in intellect : at recitations he was 
always " prepared." His death occurred in 1862, 
but not until he had honorably filled many impor- 
tant civil and political stations. 

Jonathan Cilley was a "chum "of Little at Exe- 
ter, and was equally well fitted. The record of his 
life is tinged with sadness. Li his youth he pos- 
sessed " unquestionable genius ; and had he not in- 
dulged in habits, not vicious, but still expensive of 
time, into which he was drawn by his fine social 
qualities, instead of about the ninth place, he might 
easily have taken the second, possibly the first." 
Cilley graduated with his class, and immediately 
began the study of the law. He rose rapidly in the 
estimation of the public, was sent to Congress, and 
there gained the reputation of being one of the readi- 
est debaters. In one of his congressional speeches, 
he offended the editor of " The New- York Courier 
and Exchange," and was challenged to fight a duel. 
Cilley declined on the ground that the challenger 
was not a gentleman : whereupon Mr. Graves, a 
member of Congress from Kentucky, took the chal- 



68 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

lenger's place ; and to this arrangement Mr. Cilley 
assented. On a bleak day the duel was fought 
with rifles; and Cillev, like Hamilton before him, 
fell dead, leaving his adversary unharmed. Mrs. 
Cilley "could not survive the shock, and three 
young children were left in the world without father 
or mother." 

George B. Cheever was another one of the coterie 
in which 3'oung Longfellow moved, and found the 
joys of friendship. Cheever, from early childhood, 
had studied Edmund Burke; though he was also said 
to lay "hold on all books within his reach." The 
librarian of the college once remarked, " It is fifty 
dollars damage to the library every time a theme is 
assigned to Cheever. He searches every book on 
every shelf." The diligent, careful, and conscien- 
tious student still lives to enjoy the reputation of an 
able preacher, author, and champion of temperance. 
It certainly is much to his credit that he was long 
spoken of as " the Gideon of the anti-slavery cam- 
paign." 

In the same class was John S. C. Abbott, the his- 
torian ; J. W. Bradbury, eminent in law and politics ; 
and Nathaniel Hawthorne, the genius of American 
romance. A classmate writes of Hawthorne, that 
" he utterly neglected many of the studies of the 
regular course ; and, as he would not study, he could 
not at recitations show the fruit of his study. Fail- 
ure in the classroom, however, did not disturb him; 
nor did it materially detract from the respect in 
which he was held, both by professor and classmates. 
It was soon found that he was not to be judged or 



COLLEGE DAYS. 69 

dealt with by ordinary standards ; that he had read 
much ; that his mind was enriched by its own crea- 
tions ; that he was, in a sense, already an accom- 
plished scholar. In the social circle his was apt to be 
a silent presence ; but it was a presence ever eagerly 
sought, and, somehow, marvellously magnetic. He 
never seemed to think of asking himself how he com- 
pared with his fellows. In their thoughts he was 
always above and never beneath. He was near, 
yet distant ; had intimacies, but intimates knew only 
in part. In subsequent life, in reference to a certain 
locality in England, he writes, ' Here a man does 
not seem to consider what other people will think 
of his conduct, but only whether it suits his own 
convenience to do so and so.' And he adds, ' This 
may be the better way.' When he was in college, he 
may have seemed to be of the mind here indicated ; 
only it never suited his convenience to do any thing- 
with which his associates were not obstinately bent 
on being pleased. He had no liking for any of the 
professions, and, it is probable, left college without 
any definite plans for life." ^ 

Such was Hawthorne, — confessedly the laggard 
member of the class of 1825, and yet withal one of 
the most prominent in making that class famous. 
In college he was the friend, though never the inti- 
mate, of Longfellow. In after-life the relation be- 
came intimate, and continued so to the last. ^ 

1 Rev. Dr. Slicpley. 

2 Among the students at Bowdoin during the course of Long- 
fellow and liis classmates may be mentioned : William Pitt Fes- 
senden of the class of '23, successively a member of the Maine 
Legislature, a member of Congress, United-States senator, Secretary 



70 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Longfellow, in college, was not unlike many others 
in his class. From the beginning to tlie close of 
those halcyon days, his career was singularly un- 
eventful. When he entered upon his junior year, his 
old schoolmate at the Portland Academy (John 
Owen) entered the class of 1827 , and it is his testi- 
mony, that while the excursions which they together 
made back into the country were as frequent as 
those, which, in former times, they had made to 
Deering's Woods, never was Longfellow guilty of 
any lawless escapades, or even of those v»dld, hilari- 
ous sports which were by no means uncommon 
among his fellows. 

" I shall never forget," says Mr. Owen, whose 
recollections are among the most valuable that we 
have, whether bearing upon the earlier or later life 
of the poet, — "I shall never forget one of the visits 
which I paid to my old school-friend just after the 

of the Treasury in President Lincoln's administration, and again 
United-States senator; John P. Hale of the class of '27, a member 
of the State Legislature of New Hampshire, district-attorney for 
that State under Presidents Jackson and Van Buren, member of 
Congress, member of the Legislature, and Speaker of the House of 
Representatives, United-States senator, in 1852 the Free-Soil candi- 
date for Vice-President of the United States, and United-States 
minister to Spain under President Lincoln; Franklin Pierce of the 
class of '24, member of the New-Hampshire Legislature, and Speak- 
er, member of Congress, United-States senator, a brigadier-general 
during the Mexican War, and elected President of the United 
States in 1852; Sergeant Smith Prentiss of the class of '26, The 
lawyer and orator, member of the Mississippi Legislature, member 
of Congress, and distinguished by his eloquence, and for his love and 
knowledge of literature ; and Calvin E. Stowe of the class of '24, 
professor of languages in Dartmouth, of biblical literature in Lane 
Seminary, Cincinnati, divinity professor in Bowdoin, and jn-ofessor 
of sacred literature in Andover Theological Seminary, a well-known 
author and educator, and husband of Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe. 



COLLEGE DAYS. 71 

opening of m j sophomore year. It was in the month 
of October, and on a sabbath evening. After some 
hours spent over my books, I called at his room late 
in the evening. I found him in an old arm-chair, 
with a copy of Shakspeare — an English copy, if I 
remember rightly — lying on liis lap, and over that 
a sheet of paper, on which he had been writing, in a 
clear, legible, and neat hand, which he has alwa3^s 
preserved, some inspiration of the moment. The 
object of my visit was twofold : first, to obtain 
some information with regard to one of the instruct- 
ors ; and secondly, to renew our friendship. He re- 
ceived me most cordially, and at once told me he- 
was jotting down some verses. We went over again^ 
in pleasant talk, the experience of the ballad on 
' LovewelFs Fight ; ' and I suggested that perhaps 
poesy was not his forte. 

" ' Let me read you something,' he remarked, with- 
out directly responding to my playful jest. And he 
began with the lines, — 

" ' When first in ancient time, from Jubal's tongue 
The tuneful anthem filled the morning air, 
To sacred hymnings and elysian song 
His music-breathing shell the minsti'el woke. 
Devotion breathed aloud from every chord : 
The voice of praise was heard in every tone. 
And prayer and thanks to him, the Eternal One, 
To Him, that with bright inspiration touched 
The high and gifted lyre of heavenly song, 
And warmed the soul with new vitality.' 

" 'You see, I have a cold,' he added, 'and could 
not go to devotional exercises. But I must do some- 
thing in keeping with the day.' 



72 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

" I replied that I was but a poor judge of the quality 
of verse, and that, if he called what he had read to 
me poetry^ I would assume that it was. But I could 
not refrain from adding, that it was much too grand 
to be popular. He read me more of the poem, and 
then laid it aside unfinished. Towards the Christ- 
mas holidays he showed me the poem, completed, 
published in one of the periodicals of the time. 
He had sent it to the editor of ' The United-States 
Literary Gazette,' and, in return, had been credited 
with a year's subscription." 

The same qualities of mind and person which 
so strongly characterized the poet in his later life, 
and rendered him dear to whomsoever he encoun- 
tered, were already formed in his earlier career. As 
a youth, he was invariably social, affable, genial, and 
polite. Though he was more fond of his books than 
of pastimes, and treasured time for what it could 
afford him for study, yet he was never so fully occu- 
pied with his own employments that he could not 
lend himself to others. He was known and recog- 
nized generally as one of the " well-to-do " men in 
college. Though never lavish with money, nor in 
any way inclined to that outward display which the 
possessor of money is so often led into, still he was 
thought to be well favored, and never to be in want, 
either of the necessities or of the luxuries of life. 
He was never known to refuse a contribution for 
any worthy object : no student ever came to him in 
distress and went away empty handed. 

The following incident is related by one of the 
members of the class of 1826, and corroborated by 



COLLEGE DAYS. 73 

Mr. Owen : One day n student received notice 
from home, that owing to the death of his father, 
and the straitened condition of the family, it was 
not practicable for him longer to continue his studies 
at Bowdoin. This was sad news to the young man, 
for he cherished great hopes in regard to his future 
career ; and already, by close application to duty, he 
was accounted one of the ablest and most promising 
of his class. His friend, the narrator of the anec- 
dote, having been made acquainted witii all the cir- 
cumstances of the case, at once took counsel with 
Longfellow. Up to this time — the spring of 1825 
— Longfellow had contributed several poetical effu- 
sions to the columns of '•'• The United-States Literary 
Gazette," but had never asked for, nor received, any 
compensation. From " The Gazette " the poems had 
found their way into many of the daily and weekly 
press of the country ; and the young poet, not with- 
out reason, began to think himself entitled to some 
pecuniary allowance, however small it might be. 
He wrote a note on the subject to the editor, Mr. 
Theophilus Parsons,^ and received in return a plea 
of poverty, some well-chosen words of praise and 
gratitude, and — a copy of " Coleridge's Poems." 

1 Theophilus Parsons, soa of the chief justice of the same iiame, 
was 1)01-11 at Fewburyport, Mass., May 17, 1797; graduated at Har- 
vard in 1815; studied law in the office of Judge William Prescott; 
visited Europe; practised ^aw first in Taunton and later in Boston; 
was a frequent contributor to the pages of The North-American 
Review and other periodicals, and, in 1824, founded The United- 
States Literary Gazette ; in 1847 he became the Dane i)rofessor of 
law in the Harvard Law School. Mr. Parsons wrote some fifteen 
volumes of legal treatises, also several works in support of the 
Swedeiiborgian, or " New Jerusalem," Church. His death occurred 
only a few months ago. 



74 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

This was, indeed, a disappointment ; for Longfellow- 
had counted on receiving a feAV paltry dollars, which 
it was his intention to present to his fellow-student 
in need. He was undaunted, however, and resolved 
to do what he could. Himself, his brother, and the 
narrator drew up a subscription-paper, put down on 
it such sums as each could afford, and then passed 
it round among the fellows. The college-men re- 
sponded nobly ; and enough was raised to carry 
the luckless, but deserving, object of the gift safely 
through his college-course. Just forty-one years 
from that date the same student called upon the 
poet at his home in Cambridge, and again thanked 
him for that " kindness, which had proved a fortune 
to himself." He added, that, having experienced 
"how blessed it is to receive," he had just founded 
a certain charity, — on condition that the name of 
the donor should never be made public, — and hoped 
to do even more at some future time. 

'• For some reason or other," says Mr. Owen, " the 
poet never liked to speak of this act of his earlier 
career. He and I have talked about it, to be sure ; 
but one day he suggested that the subject be for- 
ever dropped. It was one of his peculiar habits, — 
always to be doing some one a favor, and to wish 
that it be kept a profound secret." 

It has previously been stated that Longfellow did 
not begin full work' at college until he had entered 
upon his sophomore year. From September, 1821, 
to Commencement, 1822, he pursued most of his 
studies at home, and at the same time managed 
to keep up with his class. In the autumn of 1822 



COLLEGE DAYS. 75 

he began his studies at Brunswick, and so also did 
one of liis classmates, Hon. James W. Bradbury, 
now of Augusta. Hon. Mr. Bradbury thus speaks of 
his friend, after the lapse of sixty years : — 

"I first knew Longfellow when I entered as a 
sophomore in the class of which he was a member, 
in 1822 ; and I like to think of him as I then knew 
him. His slight, erect figure, delicate complexion, 
and intelligent expression of countenance come back 
to me indelibly associated with his name. 

" He was always a gentleman in his deportment, 
and a model in his character and habits. For a year 
or more we had our rooms out of college, and in the 
same vicinity; and I consequently saw much more of 
him than of many others of our class. I recollect, 
that, at our junior exhibition, a discussion upon the 
respective claims of the two races of men to this 
continent was assigned to Longfellow and myself. 
He had the character of King Philip, and I of Miles 
Standish. He maintained that the continent was 
given by the Great Spirit to the Indians, and that 
the English were wrongful intruders. My reply, as 
nearly as I can recall it, was, that the aborigines 
were claiming more than their equal share of the 
earth, and that the Great Spirit never intended that 
so few in number should hold the whole continent 
for hunting-grounds, and that we had a right to a 
share of it, to improve and cultivate. Whether this 
occurrence had any thing to do in suggesting the 
subject for one of his admirable poems, or not, one 
thing is certain, that he subsequently made a great 
deal more of Miles Standish than I did on that occa- 
sion. 



76 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

" As a scholar, Longfellow always maintained a 
high rank in a class that contained such names as 
Hawthorne, Little, Cilley, Cheever, Abbott, and oth- 
ers. Although he was supposed to be somewhat 
devoted to the Muses, he never came to the recita- 
tion-room unprepared with his lessons." 

Another classmate, the Rev. David Shepley, D.D., 
of Providence, whose death preceded that of the poet 
by a few months, brings forward a similar tribute. 
He says, — 

" Longfellow was more like his fellow-students, 
and more with them. Librarians, if not as intimate 
with him as with Cheever, still knew Longfellow. 
He gave diligent heed to all departments of study in 
the prescribed course, and excelled in all ; while his 
enthusiasm moved in the direction it has taken in 
subsequent life. His themes, felicitous translations 
of Horace, and occasional contributions to the press, 
drew marked attention to him, and led to the expec- 
tation that his would be an honorable literary career; 
yet probably no one was sagacious enough to antici- 
pate the extent and the depth of the reverential 
affection of which he has now for years been the 
object. Decided aversion to pretence and display 
distinguished him when in college, as it distinguishes 
him now." 

During Longfellow's sojourn at Brunswick, there 
was a musical club in Tcollege ; and of this he was a 
prominent member. He was exceedingly fond of 
the " art divine," and this passion remained with 
him through life ; and the instrument which he pro- 
fessed to master was the flute. One cannot help 



COLLEGE DAYS. 77 

feeling that such an instrument was most appropriate 
to his genius, or fancying that " the echoes of that 
' concord of sweet sounds ' have floated down to us 
blending with the harmonious measures of his verse." 
When he was not engaged in study, or taking a part 
in the musical club, or off on some rural excursion, 
he would spend his time in the exercise of his poetic 
gift. Some of his sweetest short productions were 
written and published while he was in college, as will 
appear later on in this biography. 

A classmate still cherishes a recollection of a poem 
which Longfellow wrote on the seasons, and after 
more than half a century remembers the lines, — 

" Summer is past ; and autumn, hoary sire, 
Leans on the breast of winter to expire." 

The Commencement programme of 1825 displays 
the following announcement : — 

" Oration : Native Writers. 
Henry A\'adsworth Longfellow, 
Portland." 

The subject that was originally selected by the 
young poet was entitled " The Life and Writings 
of Chatterton ; " but, at the eleventh hour, he 
changed his mind, and made choice of the theme 
on which he discoursed. In the programme, a copy 
of which is still preserved in the college library, tlie 
original title is erased, and " Native Writers " sub- 
stituted in Professor Cleaveland's handwriting. 

The fact that tn Longfellow was assigned one of 
the three English ovations, indicates his standing as 



78 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

a scholar in college. His was the first claim to the 
poem ; but, as the poem had no definite rank, it was 
thought due to him, since his scholarship bore a high 
mark, that he should receive an appointment which 
should place his scholarship beyond question. The 
class-poem was assigned to Frederic Mellen, "who 
was in reality more than an ordinary college-poet." 
It should not be forgotten, however, that Longfellow 
had the first claim as the poet of the class ; for he 
had not only appeared publicly as a writer, but in 
November, 1824, during the first term of his senior 
year, had been chosen to pronounce the poem of the 

Peucinian, one of the two 
leading societies in the in- 
stitution. 

One of the last acts of a 
college-man in those days 
was to have his picture 
" taken." The art of pho- 
tography was as yet undis- 
covered ; but a " silhou- 
ette " artist was almost 
always to be found, and, 
by his art of handling pa- 
per and shears, the " class- 
pictures " were taken. 
When the class was gradu- 
ated, Hawthorne alone, 
out of the whole number, 
refused to have his profile cut in paper. But Long- 
fellow was more thoughtful, though perhaps uncon- 
scious, of the demands of the future; and of his 




COLLEGE DAYS. 79 

profile I am fortunate in being able to exhibit a 
facsimile reproduction. 

At the time of his graduation, Longfellow was 
nineteen years of age. So full of promise was his 
future, that, shortly after his graduation, he was 
chosen to fill the chair of modern languages and lit- 
erature in the college, to endow which Madame Bow- 
doin some years before had given one thousand dol- 
lars as a corner-stone. But he was not asked to take 
the position before he had qualified himself for its 
duties. 



80 HENRY WADSWOKTH LONGFELLOW. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE EAKLIER POEMS OP LONGFELLOW. 

{1824-1825.) 

IN the elegant edition of his poems ilhistrated by 
Huntington and published by Carey and Hart, 
Philadelphia, in the year 1845, and in all subsequent 
editions, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow retained only 
seven of his "earlier poems;" namely, "An April 
Day," " Autumn," " Woods in ■ Winter," " Hymn of 
the Moravian Nuns of Bethlehem," " Sunrise on the 
Hills," " The Spirit of Poetry," and " Burial of the 
Minnisinh." To this list, Kettell, in his specimens 
of American poetry, published in 1829, adds " The 
Indian Hunter " and " The Sea-Diver." 

George B. Cheever's " American Common-place 
Book of Poetry," Boston, 1831, — a most excellent 
selection, — contains all the seven poems which Mr. 
Longfellow thought worthy of preservation in his col- 
lected works, and adds only one other, " Earth with 
her Thousand Voices Praises God." 

The seven poems above mentioned were but a 
small portion of those written by Longfellow in the 
period of his youth, or, rather, before his graduation 
from college. His earliest poems, as we have already 
observed, were published in one of the Portland 



THE EARLIER POEMS OF LONG FKLLOW. 81 

newspapers. As none of these are still i)reserved, — 
or, if existing, bear no signature, — it is impossible 
to say what were their titles. The poem on " Love- 
well's Fight " appears to have vanished entirely ; at 
least, many years' search has failed to discover its 
whereabouts. 

During his junior and senior years at Brunswick, 
Longfellow exercised his poetical genius quite often ; 
and, of the poems which he produced, no less than 
seventeen were published in one of the short-lived 
periodicals of that day. Theophilus Parsons, himself 
a poet of some ability, and subsequently eminent in 
Massachusetts jurisprudence, had essayed the public 
taste with a hazardous literary venture, " The United- 
States Literary Gazette," — a quarto of sixteen pages,, 
and furnished to its regular subscribers in fortnightly 
numbers at the exceedingly low price of five dollars, 
a year ! " The Gazette " made its first appearance 
on the 1st of April, 1824 ; and one of the chief 
attractions was William C. Bryant, then just coming- 
to his early fame, and who had been invited to fix 
his own price on such poems as he might choose 
to contribute. Mr. Bryant, after some hesitation, 
named two dollars a poem as a fair compensation. I 
have previously stated that the young collegian was 
no better paid. But Bryant was not the only poeti- 
cal contributor to the columns of " The Gazette : " 
and among the others were Richard Henry Dana, 
James E. Percival, Rufus Dawes, Grenville Mellen, 
— the Bowdoin class-poet of 1825, — J. Athearn 
Jones, — nearly forgotten now, but once a writer of 
great promise and of no mean attainment, — George 
Lunt, Caleb Gushing, and N. P. Willis. 



82 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Longfellow liad scarcely completed his eighteenth 
year when he ventured to send his first poem to the 
editor of '' The Gazette." Inasmuch as an exact 
account of the dates of the appearance of this and 
the succeeding poems, together with the full text of 
the poems themselves, are not without interest, I 
have decided to reproduce theni.^ 

The first poem published in " The Gazette " ap- 
peared in the issue of Nov. 15, 1824, and is as fol- 
lows : — 

THANKSGIVING. 

When first in ancient time, from Jubal's tongue 
The tuneful anthem filled the morning air, 
To sacred hymnings and elysian song 
His music-breathing shell the minstrel woke. 
Devotion breathed aloud from every chord : 
The voice of praise was heard in ^very tone, 
And prayer and thanks to Him, the Eternal One, 
To Him, that with bright inspiration touched 
The high and gifted lyre of heavenly song. 
And warmed the soul with new vitality. 
' A stirring energy through Nature breathed : 
The voice of adoration from her broke, 
iSwelling aloud in every breeze, and heard 
Long in the sullen watei-fall, what time 
Soft Spring or hoary Autumn threw on earth 
Its bloom or blighting : when the Summer smiled ; 
Or AVinter o'er the year's sepulchre mourned. 
The Deity was there ! a nameless spirit 
Moved in the breasts of men to do him homage ; 
And when the morning smiled, or evening pale 
Hung weeping o'er the melancholy urn, 

1 All of the seventeen poems of Longfellow which first appeared 
in Tlie United-States Literary Gazette were, with five others, re- 
jDrinted in England by Ricliard Heme Shepherd, and published by 
Pickering & Co. of Loudon. 



THE EAUHER POEMS OF LONGFELLOW. 83 

They came beneath the broad, o'erarching trees, 
And in their tremulous shadow worshipped oft, 
Where pale the vine clung round their simple altars. 
And gray moss mantling liung. Above was heard 
The melody of winds, breathed out as the green trees 
Bowed to their quivering touch in living beauty ; 
And birds sang forth their cheerful hymns. Below, 
The bright and widely wandering rivulet 
Struggled and gushed amongst the tangled roots 
That choked its reedy fountain, and dark rocks 
Worn smooth by the constant current. Even there 
The listless wave, that stole with mellow voice 
Wliere reeds grew rank on the rushy-fringed brink. 
And the green sedge bent to the wandering wind. 
Sang with a cheerful song of sweet tranquillity. 
Men felt the heavenly influence ; and it stole 
Like balm into their hearts, till all was peace : 
And even the air they breathed, the light they saw, 
Became religion ; for the ethereal spirit 
That to soft music wakes the chords of feeling. 
And mellows every thing to beauty, moved 
With cheering energy within their breasts. 
And made all holy there, for all was love. 
The morning stars, that sweetly sang together ; 
The moon, that hung at night in the mid-sky ; 
Dayspring and eventide ; and all the fair 
And beautiful forms of nature, — had a voice 
Of eloquent worship. Ocean, with its tides 
Swelling and deep, where low the infant storm 
Hung on his dun, dark cloud, and heavily beat 
The pulses of the sea, sent forth a voice 
Of awful adoration to the spirit 
That, wrapt in darkness, moved upon its face. 
And when the bow of evening arched the east. 
Or, in the moonlight pale, the curling wave 
Kissed with a sweet embrace the sea-woini beach, 
And soft the song of winds came o'er the waters, 
The mingled melody of wind and wave 



84 HENKY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Touched like a heavenly anthem on the ear ; 
For it arose a tuneful hymn of worship. 
And have our hearts grown cold ? Are there on earth 
No pure reflections caught from heavenly light ? 
Have our mute lips no hymn, our souls no song ? 
Let him that in the summer day of youth 
Keeps pure the holy fount of youthful feeling, 
And him that in the nightfall of his years 
Lies down in his last sleep, and shuts in peace 
His dim, pale eyes on life's short wayfaring, 
Praise Him that rules the destiny of man. 
Sunday Evening, October, 1824. 

In the number dated Dec. 1, 1824, appeared the 
following : — 

AUTUMNAL NIGHTFALL. 

Round Autumn's mouldering urn 
Loud mourns the chill and cheerless gale, 
When nightfall shades the quiet vale, 

And stars in beauty burn. 

' Tis the year's eventide. 
The wind, like one that sighs in pain 
O'er joys that ne'ei' will bloom again, 

Mourns on the far hillside. 

And yet my pensive eye 
Rests on the faint blue mountain long; 
And for the fairy-land of song, 

That lies beyond, I sigh. 

The moon unveils her brow: 
In the mid-sky her urn glows bright, 
And in her sad and mellowing light 

The valley sleeps below 

Upon the hazel gray 
The lyre of Autumn hangs unstrung, 
And o'er its tremulous chords are flung 

The fringes ol decay. 



THE EAllLIER POEMS OF LONGFELLOW. 85 

T stand deep musing here, 
Beneath the dark and motionless beech, 
Whilst wandering winds of nightfall reach 

My melancholy ear. 

The air breathes chill and free: 
A spirit in soft music calls 
From Autumn's gray and moss-grown halls, 

And round her withered tree. 

The hoar and mantled oak, 
With moss and twisted ivy brown, 
Bends in its lifeless beauty down 

Where weeds the fountain choke. 

That fountain's hollow voice 
Echoes the sound of precious things; 
Of early feeling's tuneful springs 

Choked with our blighted joys. 

Leaves that the night-wind bears 
To earth's cold bosom with a sigh. 
Are types of our mortality, 

And of our fading years. 

The tree that shades the plain, 
Wasting and hoar as time decays, 
Spring shall renew with cheerful days, — 

But- not my joys again. 

In the issue of Dec. 15, 1824, appeared the follow- 
ing:— 

ITALIAN SCENERY. 

Night rests in beauty on Mont Alto. 
Beneath its shade the beauteous Arno sleeps 
In Vallombrosa's bosom, and dark trees 
Bend with a calm and quiet shadow down 



S6 HENEY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

Upon the beauty of that silent river. 

Still in the west a melancholy smile 

Mantles the lips of day, and twilight pale 

Moves like a spectre in the dusky sky, 

While eve's sweet star on the fast-fading year 

Smiles calmly. Music steals at intervals 

Across the water, with a tremulous swell, 

From out the upland dingle of tall firs ; 

And a faint footfall sounds, where, dim and dark, 

Hangs the gray willow from the river's brink, 

O'ershadowing its current. Slowly there 

The lover's gondola drops down the stream. 

Silent, save when its dipping oar is heard, 

Or in its eddy sighs the rippling wave. 

Mouldering and moss-grown through the lapse of years, 

In motionless beauty stands the giant oak; 

Whilst those that saw its green and flourishing youth 

Are gone and are forgotten. Soft the fount. 

Whose secret springs the starlight pale discloses. 

Gushes in hollow music; and beyond 

The broader river sweeps its silent way, 

Mingling a silver current with that sea, 

Whose waters have no tides, coming nor going. 

On noiseless wing along that fair blue sea 

The halcyon flits ; and, where the wearied storm 

Left a loud moaning, all is peace again. 

A calm is on the deep. The winds that came 
O'er the dark sea-surge with a tremulous breathing, 
And mourned on the dark cliff where weeds grew rank, 
And to the autumnal death-dirge the deep sea 
Heaved its long billows, with a cheerless song 
Have passed away to the cold earth again, 
Like a wayfaring mourner. Silently 
Up from the calm sea's dim and distant verge. 
Full and unveiled, the moon's broad disk emerges. 
On Tivoli, and where the fairy hues 
Of autumn glow upon Abruzzi's woods, 



THE EARLIER POEMS OF LONGFELLOW. 87 

The silver light is spreading. Far above, 

Encompassed with their thin, cold atmosphere, 

The Apennines uplift their snowy brows. 

Glowing with colder beauty, where unheard 

The eagle screams in the fathomless ether, 

And stays his wearied wing. Here let us pause. 

The spirit of these solitudes — the soul 

That dwells within these steep and difficult places — 

Speaks a mysterious language to mine own. 

And brings unutterable musings. Earth 

Sleeps in the shades of nightfall, and the sea 

Spreads like a thin blue haze beneath my feet ; 

Whilst the gray columns and the mouldering tombs 

Of the Imperial City, hidden deep 

Beneath the mantle of their shadows, rest. 

My spirit looks on earth. A heavenly voice 

Comes silently: " Dreamer, is earth thy dwelling ? 

Lo! nursed within that fair and fruitful bosom, 

Which has sustained thy being, and within 

The colder breast of Ocean, lie the germs 

Of thine own dissolution ! E'en the air, 

That fans the clear blue sky, and gives thee strength , 

Up from the sullen lake of mouldering reeds, 

And the wide waste of forest, where the osier 

Thrives in the damp and motionless atmosphere, 

Shall bring the dire and wasting pestilence, 

And blight thy cheek. Dream thou of higher things- 

This world is not thy home! " And yet my eye 

Rests upon earth again. How beautiful 

Where wild Velino heaves its sullen waves 

Down the high cliff of gray and shapeless granite, 

Hung on the curling mist, the moonlight bow 

Arches the perilous river ! A soft light 

Silvers the Albanian mountains, fnd the haze 

That rests upon their summits mellows down 

The austerer features of their beauty. Faint 

And dim-discovered glow the Sabine hills; 

And, listening to the sea's monotonous shell, 



«8 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

High on the cliffs of Terracina stands 
The castle of the royal Goth^ in ruins. 

But night is in her wane : day's early flush 
Glows like a hectic on her fading cheek, 
Wasting its beauty. And the opening dawn 
With cheerful lustre lights the royal city, 
Where, with its proud tiara of dark towers, 
It sleeps upon its own romantic bay. 

In the issue of Jan. 1, 1825, appeared the follow- 
ing : — 

THE LUI^ATIC GIEL. 

Most beautiful, most gentle! Yet how lost 

To all that gladdens the fair earth ; the eye 

That watched her being; the maternal care 

That kept and nourished her; and the calm light 

That steals from our own thoughts, and softly rests 

On youth's green valleys and smooth-sliding waters. 

Alas! few suns of life, and fewer winds. 

Had withered or had wasted the fresh rose 

That bloomed upon her cheek: but one chill frost 

Came in that early autumn, when ripe thought 

Is rich and beautiful, and blighted it; 

And the fair stalk grew languid day by day. 

And drooped — and drooped, and shed its many leaves. 

'Tis said that some have died of love; and some. 

That once from beauty's high romance had caught 

Love's passionate feelings and heart-wasting cares, 

Have spurned life's threshold with a desperate foot; 

And others have gone mad, — and she was one! 

Her lover died at sea; and they had felt 

A coldness for each other when they parted. 

But love returned again: and to her ear 

Came tidings that the ship which bore her lover 

Had suddenly gone down at sea, and all were lost. 

I saw her in her native vale, when high 

1 Theodoric. 



THE EARLIER POEMS OF LONGFELLOW. 89 

The aspiring lark up from the reedy river 

Mounted on cheerful pinion; and she sat 

Casting smooth pebbles into a clear fountain, 

And marking how they sunk ; and oft she sighed 

For him that perished thus in the vast deep. 

She had a sea-shell, that her lover brought 

From the far-distant ocean; and she pressed 

Its smooth, cold lips unto her ear, and thought 

It ^Yhispered tidings of the dark blue sea: 

And sad, she cried, " The tides are out! — and now 

I see his corpse upon the stormy beach! " 

Around her neck a string of rose-lipped shells, 

And coral, and white pearl, was loosely hung-, 

And close beside her lay a delicate fan. 

Made of the halcyon's blue wing; and, when 

She looked upon it, it would calm her thoughts 

As that bird calms the ocean, — for it gave 

Mournful, yet pleasant, memory. Once I marked. 

When through the mountain hollows and green woods, 

That bent beneath its footsteps, the loud wind 

Came with a voice as of the restless deep, 

She raised her head, and on her pale, cold cheek 

A beauty of diviner seeming came ; 

And then she spread her hands, and smiled, as if 

She welcomed a long-absent friend — and then 

Shrunk timorously back again, and wept. 

I turned away: a multitude of thoughts, 

Mournful and dark, were crowding on my mind; 

And as I left that lost and ruined one, — 

A living monument that still on earth 

There is warm love and deep sincerity, — 

She gazed upon the west, where the blue sky 

Held, like an ocean, in its wide embrace 

Those fairy islands of bright cloud, that lay 

So calm and quietly in the thin ether. 

And then she pointed where, alone and high. 

One little cloud sailed onward, like a lost 

And wandering bark, and fainter grew, and fainter, 



90 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

And soon was swallowed up in the blue depths; 
And, when it, sunk away, she turned again 
With sad despondency and tears to earth. 

Three long and weary months — yet not a whisper 
Of stern reproach for that cold parting ! Then 
She sat no longer by her favorite fountain: 
She was at rest forever. 

In the number bearing date Jan. 15, 1825, the 
following beautiful effusion first saw the light of 
publicity. It is certainly one of the most poetical 
of Longfellow's earlier productions. 

THE VENETIAN GONDOLIER. 

Here rest the weary oar ! — soft airs 

Breathe out in the o'erarching sky; 
And Night — sweet Night — serenely wears 

A smile of peace : her noon is nigh. 

Where the tall fir in quiet stands, 

And waves, embracing the chaste shores, 

Move o'er sea-shells and bright sands. 
Is heard the sound of dipping oars. 

Swift o'er the wave the light bark springs. 
Love's midnight hour draws lingering near; 

And list! — his tuneful viol strings 
The young Venetian gondolier. 

Lo ! on the silver-mirrored deep, 

On earth, and her embosomed lakes, 
And where the sik'ut rivers sweep. 

From the thin cloud fair moonlight breaks. 

Soft music breathes around, and dies 

On the calm bosom of the sea; 
Whilst in her cell the novice sighs 

Her vespers to her rosary. 



THE EARLIER POEMS OF LONGFELLOW. 91 

At theii' dim altars bow fair forms, 

In tender charity for those, 
That, helpless left to life's rude storms, 

Have never found this calm repose. 

The bell swings to its midnight chime. 

Relieved against the deep blue sky. 
Haste ! — dip the oar again — 'tis time 

To seek Genevra's balcony. 



The issue of Feb. 1, 1825, contained the poem 
" Woods in Winter." As the most of tips produc- 
tion is in the collected works, we omit it here. 

In the issue of March 15, 1825, appeared the fol- 
lowing : — 

DIRGE OVER A NAMELESS GRAVE. 

By yon still river, where the wave 
Is winding slow at evening's close, 

The beech, upon a nameless grave, 
Its sadly moving shadow throws. 

O'er the fair woods the sun looks down 

Upon the many twinkling leaves. 
And twilight's mellow shades are brown: 

Where darkly the green turf upheaves. 

The river glides in silence there, 
And hardly waves the sapling tree: 

Sweet flowers are springing, and the air 
Is full of balm — but where is she ! 

They bade her wed a son of pride. 

And leave the hopes she cherished long : 

She loved but one, and would not hide 
A love which knew no wrong. 



92 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. ' 

And mouths went sadly on — and yeare; 

And she was wasting day by day: 
At length she died — and many tears 

Were shed, that she should pass away. 

Then came a gray old man, and knelt 

With bitter weeping by her tomb ; 
And others mourned for him, who felt 

That he had sealed a daughter's doom. 

The funeral-train has long past on, 
And time wiped dry the father's tear. 

Farewell, lost maiden! — there is one 
That mourns thee yet, — and he is here. 

In the issue of April 1, 1825, appeared the follow- 
ing poem : — 

A SONG OF, SAVOY. 

As the dim twilight shrouds 

The mountain's purple crest, 
And summer's white and folded clouds 

Are glowing in the west. 
Loud shouts come up the rocky dell, 
And voices hail the evening-bell. 

Paint is the goatherd's song, 

And sighing comes the breeze; 
The silent river sweeps along 

Amid its bending trees ; 
And the full moon shines faintly there, 
And music fills the evening air. 

Beneath the waving firs 

The tinkling cymbals sound ; 
And, as the wind the foliage stirs, 

I feel the dancers bound 
Where the green branches arched above, 
Bend over this fair scene of love. 



THE EARLIER POEMS OF LONGFELLOW. 93 

And he is there, that sought 

My young heart long ago ! 
But lie has left me — though I thought 

He ne'er could leave me so. 
Ah! lovers' vows — how frail are they! 
And his — were made but yesterday. 

AVhy comes he not? I call 

In tears upon him yet: 
'Twere better ne'er to love at all, 

Than love, and then forget ! 
Why comes he not? Alas! I should 
Reclaim him still, if weeping could. 

But see — he leaves the glade, 

And beckons me away: 
He comes to seek his mountain maid ! 

I cannot chide his stay. 
Glad sounds along the valley swell. 
And voices hail the evening-bell. 

The issue of April 15, 1825, contained the first ac- 
knowledged poem, entitled " An April Day," which, 
with a few slight changes, appears in the collected 
works. It is here omitted. 

In the issue of May 15, 1825, was published the 
following : — 

THE INDIAlSr HUNTER. 

When the summer harvest was gathered in, 
And the sheaf of the gleaner grew white and thin, 
And the ploughshare was in its furrow left, 
Where the stubble land had been lately cleft, 
An Indian hunter, with unstrung bow, 
Looked down where the valley lay stretched below. 

He was a stranger there, and all that day 
Had been out on the hills, a perilous way: 



94 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

But the foot of the deer was far and fleet, 
And the wolf kept aloof from the hunter's feet; 
And bitter feelings passed o'er him then, 
As he stood by the populous haunts of men. 

The winds of autumn came over the woods, 
As the sun stole out from their solitudes ; 
The moss was white on the maple's trunk, 
And dead from its arms the pale vine shrunk; 
And ripened the mellow fruit hung, and red 
Were the tree's withered leaves round it shed. 

The foot of the reaper moved slow on the lawn, 
And the sickle cut down the yellow corn ; 
The mower sung loud by the meadow-side, 
Where the mists of evening were spreading wide; 
And the voice of the herdsman came up the lea, 
And the dance went round by the greenwood tree. 

Then the hunter turned away from that scene, 
Where the home of his fathers once had been. 
And heard, by the distant and measured stroke,. 
That the woodman hewed down the giant oak; 
And burning thoughts flashed over his mind 
Of the white man's faith, and love unkind. 

The moon of the harvest grew high and bright. 
As her golden horn pierced the cloud of white: 
A footstep was heard in the rustling brake. 
Where the beech overshadowed the misty lake. 
And a mourning voice, and a plunge from shore. 
And the hunter was seen on the hills no more. 

When years had passed on, by that still lakeside. 
The fisher looked down through the silver tide : 
And there, on the smooth yellow sand displayed, 
A skeleton wasted and white was laid ; 
And 'twas seen, as the waters moved deep and slow, 
That the hand was still grasping a hunter's bow. 



THE EARLIER POEMS OF LONGFELLOW. 95 

The poem, " Hymn of the Moravian Nuns of Beth- 
lehem," was printed in " The Gazette," June 1, 1825, 
and is retained in the collected works. The poem, 
" Sunrise on the Hills," appeared July 1, 1825, and 
is still retained. Both of these poems are here omit- 
ted. 

On the 1st of August, 1825, appeared the follow- 
ing : — 

JECKOYVA. 

[The Indian chief, Jeckoyva, as tradition says, perished alone on the moun- 
tain which now bears his name. Night overtooli him whilst hunting among the 
cliffs ; and he was not heard of till after a long time, when his half-decayed corpse 
was found at the foot of a high rock, over which he must have fallen. Mount 
Jeckoyva is near the White Hills.] 

They made the warrior's grave beside 
The dashing of his native tide ; 
And there was mourning in the glen — 
The strong wail of a thousand men — 

O'er him thus fallen in his pride, 
Ere mist of age, or blight or blast, 
Had o'er his mighty spirit passed. 

They made the warrior's grave beneath 
The bending of the wild elm's wreath, 
When the dark hunter's piercing eye 
Had found that mountain rest on high, 

Where, scattered by the sharp wind's breath, 
Beneath the rugged cliff were thrown 
The strong belt and the mouldering bone. 

Where was the warrior's foot, when first 
The red sun on the mountain burst ? 
Where, when the sultry uoon-time came 
On the green vales with scorching flame, 

And made the woodlands faint with thirst ? 
'Twas where the wind is keen and loud, 
And the gray eagle breasts the cloud. 



96 HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. --- 

Where was the warrior's foot, when night 
Veiled in thick cloud the mountain-height ? 
None heard the loud and sudden crash, 
None saw the fallen warrior dash 
Down the bare rock so high and white ! 
But he that drooped not in the chase 
Made on the hills his burial-place. 

They found him there, when the long day 

Of cold desertion passed away ; 

And traces on that barren cleft 

Of struggling hard with death were left, — 

Deep marks and footprints in the clay. 
And they have laid this feathery helm 
By the dark river and green elm. 

The number for Aug. 15, 1825, contained the fol- 
lowmg poem : — 

THE SEA-DIVER. 

My way is on the bright blue sea, 

My sleep upon its rocking tide; 
And many an eye has followed me 

Where billows clasp the worn seaside. 

My plumage bears the crimson blush, 

When ocean by the sea is kissed. 
When fades the evening's purple flush, 

My dark wing cleaves the silver mist. 

Full many a fathom down beneath 
The bright arch of the splendid deep, 

My ear has heard the sea-shell breathe 
O'er living myriads in their sleep. 

^ They rested by the coral throne. 

And by the pearly diadem; 
Where the pale sea-grape had o'ergrown 
The glorious dwellings made for them. 



THE KAllLIEU POEMS OF LONGFELLOW. 97 

At night, upon my storm-drenched wing, . 

I poised above a helmless bark ; 
And soon I saw the shattered thing 

Had passed away, and left no mark. 

And, when the wind and storm were done, 

A ship, that had rode out the gale. 
Sunk down — without a signal-gun; 

And none was left to tell the tale. 

I saw the pomp of day depart, 

The cloud resign its golden crown, 
When to the ocean's beating heart 

The sailor's wasted corse went down. 

Peace be to those whose graves are made 

Beneath the bright and silver sea ! 
Peace — that their relics there were laid 

With no vain pride and pageantry. 

In the issue of Oct. 1, 1825, appeared the poem on 
"Autumn." Mr. Longfellow chose to retain it in 
the collected edition of his poems, and it is therefore 
omitted here. 

The issue of Nov. 15, 1825, contained the follow- 
ing : — 

MUSINGS. 

I SAT by my window one night. 

And watched how the stars grew high; 

And the earth and skies were a splendid sight 
To a sober and musing eye. 

From heaven the silver moon shone down 

With gentle and mellow ray. 
And beneath the ci'owded roofs of the town 

In broad light and shadow lay. 



98 HENEY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

A glory was on the silent sea, 

And mainland and island too, 
Till a haze came over the lowland lea, 

And shrouded that beautiful blue. 

Bright in the moon the autumn wood 

Its crimson scarf unrolled ; 
And the trees, like a splendid army, stood 

In a panoply of gold. 

I saw them waving their banners high, 
As their crests to the night-wind bowed; 

And a distant sound on the air went by. 
Like the whispering of a crowd. 

Then I watched from my window how fast 

The lights all around me fled, 
As the wearied man to his slumber passed, 

And the sick one to his bed. 

All faded save one, that burned 

AVith distant and steady light; 
But that, too, went out — and I turned 

AVhere my own lamp within shone bright. 

Thus, thought I, our joys must die, 

Yes, — the brightest from earth we win ; 

Till each turns away, with a sigh. 

To the lamp that burns brightly within. 

In the issue of April 1, 1826, appeared the follow- 
ing beautiful poem : — 

SONG. 

Wheke, from the eye of day. 

The dark and silent river 
Pursues through tangled woods a way 

O'er which the tall trees quiver; 



THE EARLIER POEMS OF LONGFELLOW. 99 

The silver mist, that breaks 

From out tliat woodland cover, 
Betrays the hidden path it takes, 

And hangs the current over. 

So oft the thoughts that burst 

From hidden springs of feeling, 
Like silent streams, unseen at first. 

From our cold hearts are stealing; 

But soon the clouds that veil 

The eye of Love, when glowing. 
Betray the long unwhispered tale 

Of thoughts in darkness flowing ! 

Here the contributions dropped, nor did the maga- 
zine itself long survive. The most singular part 
of the affair is, that Longfellow, when issuing his 
first collected volume of poems, thirteen years later, 
the "Voices of the Night," thought it worth while 
to recall onh^ five (and not all of them the best) of 
these early poems from their oubliette. 

The pieces that were reprinted received a few 
unimportant verbal alterations, but the changes 
were altogether insignificant. In a short preface to 
this section of earlier pieces, Mr. Longfellow says, 
that "these poems were written, for the most part, 
during my college life, and all of them before the 
age of nineteen. Some have found their way into 
schools, and seem to be successful : others lead a 
vagabond and precarious existence in the corners of 
newspapers, or have changed their names, and run 
away to seek their fortunes bej^ond the sea. I say, 
with the Bishop of Avranches on a similar occa- 



100 HENEY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

sion, ' I cannot be displeased to see these children of 
mine, which I have neglected, and almost exposed, 
brought from their wanderings in lanes and alleys, 
and safel}^ lodged, in order to go forth into the 
world together in a more decorous garb.' " 

It is now considerably more than half a century 
since the latest of these early poems saw the light, 
and the name of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow is 
now known and honored wherever the English lan- 
guage is spoken. We possess, to-day, the mature 
fruits of his genius ; but it will be pleasant and profit- 
able to all lovers and students of poetry, to have 
an opportunity of recalling the first flights of song 
of one who has since become so famous throughout 
the world. 

Mr. George B. Cheever, writing in 1831, says, " Most 
of Mr. Longfellow's poetry, indeed, we believe nearly 
all that has been published, appeared, during his col- 
lege life, in ' The United-States Literary Gazette.' It 
displays a very refined taste, and a very pure vein 
of poetical feeling. It possesses what has been a 
rare quality in the American poets, — simplicity of 
expression, without any attempt to startle the reader, 
or to produce an effect by far-sought epithets. There 
is much sweetness in his imagery and language, and 
sometimes he is liardly excelled by any one for the 
quiet accui-acy exhibited in his pictures of natural 
objects. His poetry will not easily be forgotten." ^ 

To such praise, little need be added ; nor is it 
necessary to enter into any detailed criticism of 

1 The American Common-place Book of Poetry, with Occasional 
Notes, by George B. Clieever, Boston, 1831. 



THE EARLIER POEMS OF LONGFELLOW. 101 

these slight first-fruits of Longfellow's muse. If 
the savor of them is sweet, there Cciii be no harm in 
culling them from the tangled wilderness where 
they lay unheeded, and in danger of perishing. 

In order to appreciate aright Mr. Longfellow's lit- 
erary service to this country, it will be necessary to 
go back, in imagination, to the epoch when he began 
his literary career. The year 1825 is a good year 
on which to fix the mind, inasmuch as it marks the 
close of the first quarter of the present century. At 
that time American literature was not born. The 
\ery appetite for it had to be evoked ; the very 
means of giving it to the public, to be created. All 
of the publishing-houses of that day — and there was 
really no great publishing-house in existence in 
America — were contenting themselves with simply 
reprinting the works of English authors, and were 
paying nothing for the privilege. A very few lit- 
erary periodicals were barely subsisting on a miserly 
patronage, and were, as a rule, ill-deserving of that. 
No human mind had as yet conceived the idea of a 
magazine on the broad and well-directed basis of 
to-day. The religious press of the period was totally 
unlike that of the present era ; and the platform of 
all was narrow, intolerant, and bitterly controversial. 
Charles Dickens's caricatures in "Martin Chuzzle- 
wit," published in 1843, would not have been so 
hateful if they had not been so true. In general 
terms, there was then no American literature, barely 
a companionship in letters. 

But it must not be assumed, in this survey of 
the field, that there was then no literary man or wo- 



102 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

man in the country ; for quite a number of persons 
had already essayed something of a literary charac- 
ter, though under adverse conditions, and to a small 
audience. William Cullen Bryant had published 
his poem of " Thanatopsis " in 1816, the "• Ages " in 
1821, and, having abandoned the law for literature, 
had gone to New York, and, in 1825, founded '' The 
New-York Review and Athenseuni Magazine," in 
which was to appear some of his best poems. In 
the following year he became editor of " The Even- 
ing Post," a position which he held until the close 
of his life. Washington Irving was about the only 
writer who had succeeded in achieving any thing of 
a reputation, either at home or abroad. He had 
already published " Salmagundi," " Knickerbockers 
History of New York," the " Sketch-Book," " Brace- 
bridge Hall," and the "tales of a Traveller." 
Of this genial author, a London reviewer then wrote, 
"We may congratulate him on the rank which he 
has already gained, of wliich the momentary caprice 
of the public cannot long deprive him ; and with 
hearty good-will, playfully, but we hope not pro- 
fanely, we exclaim as we part with him, ' Very pleas- 
ant hast thou been to me, my brother Jonathan!'" 
Edgar A. Poe, at this time, was chiefly celebrated 
for his feats of reckless hardihood. If lie had as yet 
written any verses, no publisher had brought them 
out. Motley was still a youth, and attending school 
at Dorchester, Mass. ; and Prescott had not yet ap- 
peared before the public as an historian. 

Whittier was still on his father's farm near Haver- 
hill, Mass., anon writing occasional verses for the 



THE EARLIER POEMS OF LONGFELLOW. lOS 

local newspaper, and turning liis hand to a little 
shoemaking. Emerson, having studied divinity, had 
assumed the charge of a congregation in Boston ; but 
not yet had he come forth as an author. Holmes^ 
was just on the point of entering Harvard College ; 
and, as we have already observed, Hawthorne had 
written nothing beyond a few college exercises. 
Cooper was feeling his way, and had yet in the cru- 
cible his unformed stories of Indian and pioneer life. 
It will thus be seen that American life was strangely 
prosaic ; and, before it could feel the glow of its own 
poetry, it must know something of the poetry of the 
past. This was Longfellow's first service to his coun- 
trymen. " He was a mediator between the old and 
the new : he translated the romance of the past into 
the lano'uagre of universal life. Out of the closed 
volume he gathered the flowers that lay pressed 
and dead and odorless : he breathed into them the 
breath of life, and they bloomed and were fragrant 
again. He came to the past as the south winds 
come to the woods in spring ; and the trees put out 
their leaves, and the earth its mosses, and the dell 
its wild-flowers, to greet him." As we follow down 
the poet's years, from this early period of scholarly 
venture to the matured present, we shall find that 
his ambition was always directed towards the fulfil- 
ment of a laudable purpose, and that this purpose 
was largely the revivification of a buried past. For 
it he made patient preparation in most careful and 
painstaking study. 

Notwithstanding that Longfellow had published 
several poems, and these had been widely reprinted, 



10-Jl: HENKY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

still, at the time of which I write, he himself was 
not known as an author beyond the circle of his own 
family and most intimate friends. That his verses 
were admired, is evidenced by the fact that the editor 
of " The Gazette " never refused one of his contri- 
butions, which were invariably sent to him anony- 
mously, or rather bore only the signature " H. W. L." 
When Mr. Carter, who succeeded Mr. Parsons in the 
editorial chair, met Professor Packard subsequently 
in Boston, he made inquiry what young man, signing 
himself " H. W. L.," was sending him such fine 
poetry from Bowdoin College. The professor was 
able only to conjecture the name of the poet. 

In 1826, the year after Longfellow left college, a 
modest volume of " Miscellaneous Poems selected 
from the United-States Literary Gazette " appeared ; 
and it furnished by far the best summary of the 
national poetry up to that time. Its authors were 
Bryant, Longfellow, Percival, Dawes, Mellen, and 
Jones ; and it certainly offered a curious contrast to 
that equally characteristic volume of 1794, " The Co- 
lumbian Muse," whose poets were Barlow, Trumbull, 
Freneau, Dwight, Humphreys, and a few others ; 
not a single poem or poet being held in common by 
the two collections. 



Longfellow's flust visit to eukope. 105 



CHAPTER V. 

LONGFELLOW'S FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 

0826-1829.) 

AFTER his graduation, as the second in a class 
of thirty-one members, Longfellow began the 
study of law in his father's office in Portland, with 
a view of entering upon its practice. But as might 
have been expected of one whose tastes were already 
formed, and who had made such a growing success 
in the field of literature, the young man soon wearied 
of legal study. In the unattractive pages of Coke 
and Blackstone, he was unable to find any thing 
congenial to his mind ; and almost in despair, and 
very much to the dissatisfaction of his father, he 
confessed that he cherished no love for the subject, 
and wished to be excused from its further study. 
While he was still undecided to what next to turn 
his attention, — the thought of becoming a literary 
man never once entered his head at this time, — the 
call was extended to him to become professor of 
modern languages and literature at his Alma Mate?: 
This was indeed a surprise ; for scarcely six months 
had elapsed since his return from Brunswick, and 
Longfellow was now but a youth of nineteen. 

There is a tradition in the college, relative to this 



106 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

appointment, which I must not fail to mention just 
here. While yet a college student, Longfellow had 
written a metrical translation of one of Horace's 
odes. The reading of this translation, or a part of 
it, at a general examination, had attracted the atten- 
tion of the examiners by its rare beauty of expres- 
sion ; and, when the proposal was made in the board 
of trustees to establish a chair of modern languages 
and literature, the Hon. Benjamin Orr, a distin- 
guished lawyer of Maine, and a great lover of Hor- 
ace, nominated Mr. Longfellow, and referred to this 
translation as sufficient proof of his fitness for the 
position. The Horace itself, with the autographs of 
Longfellow, Calvin Stowe, and John A. Andrew, is 
in the collection of Professor Egbert C. Smyth of 
Andover, Mass.^ 

An invitation to a professorship meant something 
in those days ; and, in the present instance, it meant 
every thing. A new chair had been created; and 
Longfellow, with neither years nor experience to 
back him, was now selected to fill it. He was asked, 
not to carry on a department already established, 
but to organize one himself, at a time, be it remem- 
bered, when American colleges had not yet learned 
that France and Germany have a literature as well 
as Greece and Rome. Should he accept the invita- 
tion ? this was now the only question with him. It 
was well considered in his own mind, and warmly 
debated around the home fireside. He was not ex- 
pected to set to work immediately, but was given 
permission to prepare himself for the new position; 

1 Rev. Lymau Abbott is my authority for tbis anecdote. 



Longfellow's first visit to euuope. 107 

and preparation presupposed a trip to Europe. But 
the time came when it became necessary to return 
an answer to the board of trustees : it was an affirma- 
tive response. 

In the spring of 1826, all preparations having 
been duly completed, Longfellow bade adieu to his 
friends in Portland, and went to New York. Sev- 
eral daj^s were consumed in exploring some of the 
wonders of the great metropolis, and in making- 
excursions to the surrounding places of interest. 
Having engaged his passage to Europe on a sailing- 
vessel, which had not yet gotten ready for departure, 
and having a few days of leisure still on his hands, 
it occurred to him that he would make a visit to 
Philadelphia. It was on a beautiful spring day 
when he started, and the country was as lovely then 
as it is now. I quote his own account of this inter- 
esting ramble : — 

" I spent a week in the Quaker City, stopping at 
the old Mansion Plouse on Third Street, near Wal- 
nut. It was one of the best hotels I ever stopped at, 
and at that time perhaps the best in the country. 
It has been the private residence of the wealthy 
Brighams, and was kept by a man named Head. 
The table was excellent ; and the bed-chambers 
were splendidly furnished, and were great, large, 
airy rooms. It has given way now to the demands 
of business, I believe ; for, when I was last there, I 
could hardly recognize the place Avhere I stood. 
During this visit, I spent much time looking about ; 
and Philadelphia is one of the places which made a 
lasting impression upon me, and left its mark upon 



108 HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

my later work. Even the streets of Philadelphia 
make rhyme, — 

" ' Chestnut, walnut, spruce, and j)ine, 
Market, arch, race, and vine.' 

" I got the climax of ' Evangeline ' from Philadel- 
phia, and it was singular how I happened to do so. 
I was passing down Spruce Street one day towards 
my hotel, after a walk, when my attention was at- 
tracted to a large building with beautiful trees about 
it, inside of a high enclosure. I walked along until 
I came to the great gate, and then stepped inside, 
and looked carefully over the place. The charming 
picture of lawn, flower-beds, and shade which it pre- 
sented, made an impression which has never left me ; 
and twenty-four years after, when I came to write 
' Evangeline,' I located the final scene — the meeting 
between Evangeline and Gabriel, and the death — at 
this poorhouse, and the burial in an old Catholic 
graveyard not far away, which I found, by chance, 
in another of my walks." 

Having filled his mind with pleasant reminiscences 
of the old Quaker City, Longfellow returned to New 
York, whence he was now about to leave for a pro- 
longed sojourn in the lands beyond the sea. What 
were the thoughts and feelings of this young man, 
alone in a great city, and soon to tempt the dangers 
and uncertainties of an ocean-voyage, can only be 
conjectured. He cherished, at this time, an irresisti- 
ble longing to catch a glimpse of the Old World ; 
but his purpose in going tliither was not like that of 
an ordinary tourist, who feels himself in need of a 



Longfellow's first visit to Europe. 109 

change of scene, and of a relaxation from his cares 
of business, but was that of the scholar, who, having 
a fixed project in view, now seeks to take the first 
step towards its accomplishment. Longfellow was 
about to enter upon a course of philological study ; 
and he was to pursue this course, not out of text- 
books, — which did not then exist, and which, though 
they exist now, are but poor auxiliaries to an earnest 
student, — but by seeing European society in all its 
forms, by conversing with men of all characters, and 
representatives of all professions, by investigating 
institutions and laws, and by acquainting himself 
with courts and parliaments. He craved the faculty 
of reading and si3eaking foreign languages, and 
sought the opportunity of learning them, not merely 
from the drill of professional teachers, but as well 
from the lips of those whose words, written or spoken, 
had taught them. 

Ocean-travel, a half-century ago, differed much 
from what it is at the present day. The great 
steamship-lines were, as yet, unthought of; and the 
journey to Europe occupied nearly thrice the amount 
of time that it does now. Such a luxury as a cheap 
excursion, which has become so distinguished a fea- 
ture of modern travel, was then counted among the 
impossibilities. Indeed, no one ever thought of 
going to Europe in those days, unless he had a defi- 
nite object in view ; or except he was a merchant 
having foreign connections in his business ; or a 
scholar bound for a German university to complete 
his studies before entering on a professorship ; or a 
son of wealthy parents, who was now about to begin 



110 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

a life of elegant leisure. No passenger steamer had 
5'et crossed the thousand leagues of watery waste 
that divide the two continents ; and whoever made 
the journey must needs have sailed on board some 
packet-ship, and be many days at sea. But this was 
no discomfiture to an earnest student like I^ongfel- 
low. He had no fear of the ocean : from his earliest 
years he had been charmed by its grandeur and its 
majesty. 

In May, 1826, the ship sailed from New York 
with eleven passengers aboard, of which Longfellow 
was one, and the youngest. It was a packet-ship, 
bound for Havre, France. She was towed down the 
harbor a short distance, and then a favoring breeze 
wafted her gaj'ly along her course. The whid con- 
tinued to be fair and strong ; and the voyage was 
pleasant, void of episodes, and as rapid as such a 
voyage could have been at this period. By the 1st 
of June, Havre was reached ; and there, for the first 
time in his life, Longfellow found himself face to 
face with antiquity. Having been dismissed from 
the custom-house, and spent a few days in port, 
Longfellow now prepared to begin his first series of 
wanderings on the Continent. His route lay through 
the beautiful province of Normandy ; and the road 
leading from Havre to Rouen, his next objective 
point, was through a level, champaign country. His 
own words furnish the best description of what he 
saw and experienced. 

"Every thing,"' he says, "wore an air of freshness 
and novelty, which pleased my eye, and kept my 
fancy constantly busy. Life was like a dream. It 



Longfellow's first visit to Europe. Ill 

was a luxury to breathe again the free air, after 
having been so long cooped up at sea ; and, like a 
long-imprisoned bird let loose from its cage, my im- 
agination revelled in the freshness and sunshine of 
the morning landscape. 

" On every side, valley and hill were covered 
with a carpet of soft velvet green. The birds were 
singing merrily in the trees ; and the landscape wore 
that look of gayety so well described in the quaint 
language of an old romance, making the 'sad, pensive, 
and aching heart to rejoice, and to throw ofi' mourn- 
ing and sadness.' Here and there a cluster of chest- 
nut-trees shaded a thatched-roofed cottage ; and little 
patches of vineyard were scattered on the slope of 
the hills, mingling their delicate green with the deep 
hues of the early summer-grain. The whole land- 
scape had a fresh, breezy look. It was not hedged 
in from the highways, but lay open to the eye of the 
traveller, and seemed to welcome him with open 
arms. I felt less a stranger in the land ; and as my 
eye traced the dusty road winding along through a 
rich, cultivated country, and skirted on either side 
with blossomed fruit-trees, and occasionally caught 
glimpses of a little farmhouse resting in a green hol- 
low, and lapped in the bosom of plenty, I felt that I 
was in a prosperous, hospitable, and happy land. 

" I had taken my seat on top of the diligence, in 
order to have a better A'iew of the country. It was 
one of those ponderous vehicles which totter slowly 
along the paved roads of France, laboring beneath a 
mountain of trunks and bales of all descriptions, 
and, like the Trojan horse, bore a groaning multi- 



112 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

tude within it. It was a curious and cumbersome 
machine, resembling the bodies of three coaches 
placed upon one carriage, with a cabricilet on top 
for outside passengers. On the panels of each door 
were painted the fleurs-de-lis of France ; and upon 
the side of the coach emblazoned, in golden charac- 
ters, ' Exploitation G4nerale des Messageries Royales 
des Dilige7ices pour le Havre^ Rouen., et Paris.'' 

" It would be useless to describe the motley 
groups that filled the four quarters of this little 
world. There was the dusty tradesman, with green 
coat and cotton uml)rella ; the sallow invalid, in 
skull-cap and cloth shoes ; the priest in his cassock ; 
the peasant in his frock ; and a whole family of 
squalling children. My fellow-travellers on top 
were a gay subaltern, with fierce mustache, and a 
nut-brown village beauty of sweet sixteen. The 
subaltern wore a military undress, and a little blue 
cloth cap in the shape of a cow-bell, trimmed smartly 
with silver lace, and cocked on one side of his head. 
The brunette was decked out with a staid white 
Norman cap, nicely starched and plaited, and nearly 
three feet high, a rosary and cross about her neck, a 
linsey-woolsey gown, and Avooden shoes. 

" The personage who seemed to rule this little 
world with absolute sway was a short, pursy man, 
with a busy, self-satisfied air, and the sonorous title 
of 3Ionsieur le Condudeur. As insignia of office, he 
wore a little round fur cap and fur-trimmed jacket, 
and carried in his hand a small leathern portfolio, 
containing his way-bill. He sat with us on top of 
the diligence, and with comic gravity issued his man- 



LONGFELLOW"S FIRST VISIT TO EUllOl'K. 113 

dates to the postilion below, like some petty monarch 
speaking from his throne. In every clingy village we 
thundered through, he had a thousand commissions 
to execute and to receive ; a package to throw out 
on this side, and another to take in on that ; a whis- 
per for the landlady at the inn ; a love-letter and a 
kiss for her daughter ; and a wink or a snap of his 
fingers for the chambermaid at the window. Then, 
there were so many questions to be asked and an- 
swered while changing horses I Everybody had a 
word to say. It was ' Monsieur le Conducteur ! ' here, 
' Monsieur le Conducteur ! ' there. He was in com- 
plete bustle ; till at length crying, ' En route ! ' he 
ascended the dizzy height, and we lumbered away iu 
a cloud of dust. 

" But what most attracted my attention was the 
grotesque appearance of the postilion and the horses. 
He was a comical-looking little fellow, already past 
the heyday of life, with a thin, sharp countenance, to 
which the smoke of tobacco and the fumes of wine 
had given the dusty look of parchment. He was 
equipped in a short jacket of purple velvet, set off 
with a red collar, and adorned with silken cord. 
Tight breeches of bright yellow leather arrayed his 
pipe-stem legs, which were swallowed tip in a huge 
pair of wooden boots, iron-fastened, and armed with 
long, rattling spurs. His shirt-collar was of vast 
dimensions ; and between it and the broad brim of 
his high, bell-crowned, varnished hat, projected an 
eel-skin cue, with a little tuft of frizzled hair, like 
a powder-puff, at the end, bobbing up and down with 
the motion of the rider, and scattering a white cloud 
arotmd him. 



114 HENllY AVADSWORTH LONGFELLOAV. 

"Tlie liorses which drew tlie diligence were har- 
nessed to it witli ropes and leatlier thongs in the 
most uncoutli manner imaginable. They Avere five 
in number, black, white, and gray, — as various in 
size as in color. Their tails were braided, and tied 
up with wisps of straw ; and when the postilion 
mounted, and cracked his heavy whip, off they 
started, one pulling this way, another that, — one on 
the gallop, another trotting, and tlie rest dragging 
along at a scrambling pace between a trot and a 
Walk. No sooner did the vehicle get comfortably in 
motion, than the postilion, throwing tlie reins upon 
his horse's neck, and drawing a flint and steel from 
one pocket, and a short-stemmed pipe from another, 
leisurely struck fire, and began to smoke. Ever and 
«,non some part of the rope-harness would give way. 
Monsieur le Coiiducteur from cni high would thunder 
forth an oath or two ; a head would be popped out 
at every window ; half a dozen voices exclaim at 
once, ' What's the matter ? ' and the postilion, apos- 
trophizing the Diable as usual, would thrust his long 
^hip into the leg of his boot, leisurely dismount, and, 
drawing a handful of packthread from his pocket, 
quietly set himself to mend matters in the best way 
possible. 

"■ In this manner we toiled slowly along the dusty 
highway. Occasionally the scene Avas enlivened by 
a group of peasants, driving before them a little ass 
laden with vegetables for a neighboring market. 
Then we would pass a solitary shepherd sitting by 
the roadside, with a shaggy dog at his feet, guarding 
his flock, and making his scanty meal on the contents 



Longfellow's first visit to Europe. 115 

of his wallet; or perchance a little peasant-girl in 
wooden shoes, leading a cow by a cord attaclied to 
her horns, to browse along the side of the ditch. 
Then we Avould all alight to ascend some formidable 
hill on foot, and be escorted up by a clamorous group 
of sturdy mendicants, annoyed by the ceaseless im- 
portunity of Avorthless beggary, or moved to pity by 
the palsied limbs of the aged, and the sightless eye- 
balls of the blind. 

« 

" Occasionally, too, the postilion drew up in front 
of a dingy little cabaret, completely overshadowed 
by wide-spreading trees. A lusty grape-vine clam- 
bered up beside the door ; and a pine-bough was 
thrust out from a hole in the wall, by way of 
tavern-bush. Upon the front of the house was gen- 
erally inscribed in large black letters, ' Ici on donne 

A BOIRE ET a manger ; ON LOGE A PIED ET A 

CHEVAL,' — a sign which may be thus paraphrased, 
' Good entertainment for man and beast,' but which 
was once translated by a foreigner, • Here they give to 
eat and drink : they lodge on foot and on horseback ! ' 

" Thus one object of curiosity succeeded another ; 
hill, valley, stream, and woodland flitted by me like 
the shifting scenes of a magic-lantern ; and one train 
of thought gave place to another, — till at length, in 
the after part of the day, we entered the broad and 
shady avenue of fine old trees which leads to the 
western gate of Rouen, and a few moments after- 
ward were lost in the crowds and confusion of its 
narrow streets." 

On arriving at Rouen, next to Paris the most in- 
teresting city of France, where nothing but the liv- 



116 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

ing countenances and the merchandise displayed 
in the shop-windows remind one of modern times, 
Longfellow was led to seek lodgings at the Lion 
d'Or, — the Golden Lion Inn. He says, — 

" The hostess of the Golden Lion received me 
witli a courtesy and a smile, rang the house-bell for 
a servant, and told him to take the gentleman's 
things to No. 35. I followed him up stairs. One, 
two, three, four, five, ^ six, seven ! Seven stories 
high, by Our Lady ! I counted them every one : 
and, when I went down to remonstrate, I counted 
them again ; so that there was no possibility of a 
mistake. When I asked for a lower room, the host- 
ess told me the house was full ; and, when I spoke of 
going to another hotel, she said she should be so very 
sorry, so desolee, to liave monsieur leave lier, that I 
marched up again to No. 35. 

"After finding all the fault I could with the 
chamber, I ended, as is generally the case with most 
men on such occasions, by being very well pleased 
with it. Tlie only thing I could possibly complain 
of was my being lodged in the seventh story, and in 
the immediate neighborhood of a gentleman who was 
learning to play the French horn. But, to remuner- 
ate me for these disadvantages, my -window looked 
down into a market-place, and gave me a distant 
view of the towers of the cathedral, and the ruins 
of the church and abbey of St. Ouen. 

" When I liad fully prepared m3^self for a ramble 
through the city, it was already sunset; and, after 
the heat and dust of the day, tlie freshness of the 
long evening twilight was delightful. When I enter 



LONGFELLOW"s FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 117 

a new city I cannot rest till I have satisfied the first 
cravings of curiosity by rambling through its streets. 
Nor can I endure a cicerone with his eternal ' This 
way, sir.' I never desire to be led directly to an 
object worthy of a traveller's notice, but prefer a 
thousand times to find my own way, and come upon 
it b}^ surprise. This was particularly the case at 
Rouen. It was the first European city of importance 
that I visited. There was an air of antic[uity about 
the whole city that breathed of the Middle Ages ; 
and so strong and delightful was the impression that 
it made upon my youthful imagination, that nothing 
which I afterward saw could either equal or efface it. 
I have since passed through that city, but I did not 
stop. I was unwilling to destroy an impression 
which, even at this distant day, is as fresh upon my 
mind as if it were of yesterday. 

" With these delightful feelings I rambled on from 
street to street ; till at length, after threading a 
narrow alley, I unexpectedly came out in front of 
the magnificent cathedral. If it had suddenly risen 
from the earth, the effect could not have been more 
powerful and instantaneous. It completely over- 
whelmed my imagination ; and I stood for a long 
time motionless, gazing entranced upon the stu- 
pendous edifice. I had before seen no specimen of 
Gothic architecture ; and the massive towers before 
me, the lofty windows of stained glass, the low por- 
tal, with its receding arches and rude statues, all 
produced npon my untravelled mind an impression 
of awful sublimity. When I entered the church, the 
impression was still more deep and solemn. It was 



118 HENRY WADSWOKTH LONGFELLOW. 

the hour of vespers. The religious twilight of the 
place, the lamps that burned on the distant altar, the 
kneeling crowd, the tinkling bell, and the chant of 
the evening service that rolled along the vaulted 
roof in broken and repeated echoes, filled me with 
new and intense emotions. When I gazed on the 
stupendous architecture of the church; the huge 
columns that the eye followed up till they were 
lost in the gathering dusk of the arches above ; the 
long and shadowy aisles; the statues of saints and 
martyrs that stood in every recess ; the figures of 
armed knights upon the tombs ; the uncertain light 
that stole through the painted windows of each little 
chapel ; and the form of the cowled and solitary 
monk, kneeling at the shrine of his favorite saint, 
or passing between the lofty columns of the church, 
— all I had read of, but had not seen, — I was 
transported back to the Dark Ages, and felt as I 
can never feel again. 

" On the following day I visited the remains of 
an old palace built by Edward the Third, now occu- 
pied as the Palais de Justice, and the ruins of the 
church and monastery of St. Antoine. I saw the hole 
in the tower where the ponderous bell of the abbey 
fell through, and took a peep at the curious illumi- 
nated manuscript of Daniel d'Aubonne in the public 
library. The remainder of the morning was spent in 
visiting the ruins of the ancient abbe}" of St. Ouen, 
which is now transformed into the Hotel de Ville, 
and in strolling through its beautiful gardens, dream- 
ing of the present and the past, and given up to ' a 
melancholy of my own.' 



Longfellow's first visit to Europe. 119 

" At the table dliote of the Golden Lion I fell 
into conversation with an elderl}' gentleman, who 
proved to be a great antiquarian, and thoroughly- 
read in all the forgotten lore of the city. As our 
tastes were somewhat similar, we were soon upon 
very friendly terms ; and after dinner we strolled 
out to visit some remarkable localities, and took 
the gloria together at the Chevalier Bayard. 

" When we returned to the Golden Lion, he en- 
tertained me with many curious stories of the spots 
we had been visiting." 

Longfellow passed the midsummer months at the 
village of Auteuil, which he thought " the pleasant- 
est of the many little villages that lie in the immedi- 
ate vicinity of the metropolis." He thus recounts 
his impressions of the place : — 

" It is situated on the outskirts of the Bois de 
Boulogne, a wood of some extent, in whose green 
alleys the dusty cit enjoys the luxury of an evening 
drive, and gentlemen meet in the morning to give 
each other satisfaction m the usual way. A cross- 
road, skirted with green hedge-rows, and overshad- 
owed by tall poplars, leads you from the noisy 
highway of St. Cloud and Versailles to the still re- 
tirement of this suburban hamlet. On either side 
the eye discovers old chateaux amid the trees, and 
green parks, whose pleasant shades recall a thousand 
images of La Fontaine, Racine, and Moliere ; and 
on an eminence overlooking the windings of the 
Seine, and giving a beautiful though distant view of 
the domes and gardens of Paris, rises the village of 
Passy, long the residence of our countrymen Frank- 
lin and Count Rumford. 



120 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

"I took up my abode at a maison de sante ; not 
that I was a valetudinarian, but because I there found 
some one to whom I could whisper, ' How sweet is 
solitude ! ' Behind the house was a garden filled 
with fruit-trees of various kinds, and adorned with 
gravel-walks, and green arbors furnished with tables, 
and rustic seats for the repose of tlie invalid and 
the sleep of the indolent. Here the inmates of the 
rural hospital met on common ground, to breathe 
the invigorating air of morning, and while away the 
lazy noon or vacant evening with tales of the sick- 
chamber. 

" The establishment was kept by Dr. Dentdelion, 
a dried-up little fellow, with red hair, a sandy com- 
plexion, and the physiognomy and gestures of a 
monkey. His character corresponded to his outward 
lineaments, for he had all a monkey's busy and 
curious impertinence. Nevertheless, such as he was, 
the village ^sculapius strutted forth tiie little great 
man of Auteuil. The peasants looked up to him as 
to an oracle : he contrived to be at the head of 
every thing, and laid claim to the credit of all pub- 
lic improvements in the village. In fine, he was a 
great man on a small scale. 

" It was within the dingy walls of this little poten- 
tate's imperial palace that I chose my country resi- 
dence. I had a chamber in the second story, with a 
solitary window which looked upon the street, and 
gave me a peep into a neighbor's garden. This I 
esteemed a great j)rivilege ; for, as a stranger, I de- 
sired to see all that was passing out-of-doors : and 
the sight of green trees, though growing on anoth- 



LONGFELLOW'S FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 121 

er's ground, is always a blessing. Within doors, — 
liad I been disposed lo quarrel with my household 
gods, — I might have taken some objection to my 
neighborhotd : for on one side of me was a consump- 
tive patient, whose graveyard-cough drove me from 
my chamber by day ; and on the other an English 
colonel, whose incoherent ravings, in the delirium 
of a high and obstinate fever, often broke my slum- 
bers by night. But I found ample amends for these 
inconveniences in the society of those who were so 
little indisposed as hardly to know what ailed them, 
and those who, in health themselves, had accompa- 
nied a friend or relative to the shades of the coun- 
try in pursuit of it. 

" It was, however, to the Bois de Boulogne that I 
looked for my principal recreation. There I took 
my solitary walk morning and evening, or, mounted 
on a little mouse-colored donkey, paced demurely 
along the woodland pathway. I had a favorite seat 
beneath the shadow of a venerable oak, one of the 
few hoary patriarchs of the wood which had survived 
the bivouacs of the allied armies. It stood upon 
the brink of a little glassy pool, whose tranquil 
bosom was the image of a quiet and secluded life, 
and stretched its parental arms over a rustic bench 
that had been constructed ber^ea^h it for the accom- 
modation of the foot-traveller, or, perchance, some 
idle dreamer like myself. It seemed to look round 
with a lordly air upon its old hereditary domain, 
whose stillness was no longer broken by the tap of the 
martial drum, nor the discordant clang of arms; and, 
as the breeze whispered among its branches, it seemed 



122 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

to be holding friendly colloquies with a few of its 
venerable contemporaries, who stooped from the op- 
posite bank of the pool, nodding gravely now and 
then, and gazing at themselves, with a sigh, in the 
mirror below. 

" In this quiet haunt of rural repose, I used to sit 
at noon, hear the birds sing, and 'possess myself in 
much quietness.' Just at my feet lay the little sil- 
ver pool, with the sky and the woods painted in its 
mimic vault, and occasionally the image of a bird, 
or the soft, watery outline of a cloud, floating silently 
through its sunny hollows. The water-lily spread 
its broad, green leaves on the surface, and rocked to 
sleep a little world of insect life in its golden cradle. 
Sometimes a wandering leaf came floating and wa- 
vering downward, and settled on the water ; then a 
vagabond insect would break the smooth surface 
into a thousand ripples, or a green-coated frog slide 
from the bank, and, plump I dive headlong to the 
bottom. 

"■ I entered, too, with some enthusiasm, into all the 
rural sports and merrymakes of the village. The 
holidays were so many little eras of mirth and good 
feeling ; for the French have that happy and sunshiny 
temperament — that merry-go-mad character — which 
renders all their social meetings scenes of enjoyment 
and hilarity. I made it a point never to miss any of 
the fetes-champetres, or rural dances, at the wood of 
Boulogne ; though I confess it sometimes gave me 
a momentary uneasiness to see my rustic throne 
beneath the oak usurped by a noisy group of girls, 
the silence and decorum of my imaginary realm 



Longfellow's first visit to euuope. 123 

broken by music and laughter, and, in a word, my 
whole kingdom turned topsy-turvy with romping, 
fiddling, and dancing. But I am naturally, and 
from principle too, a lover of all those innocent 
amusements which cheer the laborer's toil, and, as it 
were, put their shoulders to the wheel of life, and 
help the poor man along with his load of cares. 
Hence I saw, with no small delight, the rustic swain 
astride the wooden horse of the carrousel^ and the 
village maiden whirling round and round in its dizzy 
car ; or took my stand on a rising ground that over- 
looked the dance, an idle spectator in a busy throng. 
It was just where the village touched the outward 
border of the wood. There a little area had been 
levelled beneath the trees, surrounded by a painted 
rail, with a row of benches inside. The music was 
placed in a slight balcony, built around the trunk of 
a large tree in the centre ; and the lamps, hanging 
from the branches above, gave a gay, fantastic, and 
fairy look to the scene. How often in such moments, 
did I recall the lines of Goldsmith, describing those- 
'kinder skies' beneath which 'France displays her 
bright domain,' and feel how true and masterly the; 
sketch, — 

" ' Alike all ages : dames of ancient days 

Have led their children through the mirthful maze ; 
And the gray grandsire, skilled in gestic lore, 
Has frisked beneath the burden of threescore. ' 

" Nor must I forget to mention the fete patronale, 
a kind of annual fair, which is held at midsummer, 
in honor of the patron saint of Auteuil. Then the 



124 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

principal street of the village is filled with booths of 
every description; strolling players, and rope-dancers 
and jugglers, and giants and dwarfs, and wild beasts, 
and all kinds of wonderful shows, excite the gaping 
curiosity of the throng ; and in dust, crowds, and 
confusion the village rivals the capital itself. Then 
the goodly dames of Passy descend into the village 
of Auteuil; then the brewers of Billancourt and 
the tanners of Sevres dance lustily under the green- 
wood tree ; and then, too, the sturdy fishmongers of 
Bretigny and Saint -Yon regale their wives with an 
airing in a swing, and their customers with eels and 
crawfish ; or, as is more poetically set forth in an old 
Christmas carol, — 

" ' Vous eussiez vu venir 

Tons ceux de Saint -Yon, 
Et ceux de Bretigny, 

Apportaut du poisson. 
Les barbeaux et gardens, 
Anguilles et carpettes, 
Etaient a bon marche, 

Croyez, 
A cette journee-la. 
La, la, 
Et aussi les perchettes.' 

" I found another source of amusement in observ- 
ing the various personages that daily passed and 
repassed beneath my window. The character which 
most of all arrested my attention was a poor, blind 
fiddler, whom I first saw chanting a doleful ballad 
at the door of a small tavern, near the gate of the 
village. He wore a brown coat, out at elbows, the 



Longfellow's first visit to europe. 125 

fragment of a velvet waistcoat, and a pair of tight 
nankeen trousers, so short as hardly to reach below 
his calves. A little foraging-cap, that had long since 
seen its best days, set off an open, good-humored 
countenance, bronzed by sun and wind. He was 
led about by a brisk, middle-aged woman, in straw 
hat and wooden shoes ; and a little barefooted boy, 
with clear blue eyes and flaxen hair, held a tattered 
hat in his hand, in which he collected eleemosynary 
sous. The old fellow had a favorite song, which he 
used to sing with great glee to a merry, joyous air, 
the burden of which ran, " Chantons V amour et le 
plaisirf' I often thought it would have been a 
good lesson for the crabbed and discontented rich 
man to have heard this remnant of humanity, poor, 
blind, and in rags, and dependent upon casual charity 
for his daily bread, singing, in so cheerful a voice, 
the charms of existence, and, as it were, fiddling life 
away to a merry tune. 

" I was, one morning, called to my window by the 
sound of rustic music. I looked out, and beheld a 
procession of villagers advancing along the road, 
attired in gay dresses, and marching merrily on in 
the direction of the church. I soon perceived that 
it was a marriage festival. The procession was led 
by a long orang-outang of a man, in a straw hat 
and white dimity bob-coat, playing on an asthmatic 
clarinet, from which he contrived to blow unearthly 
sounds, ever and anon squeaking off at right angles 
from his tune, and winding up with a grand flourish 
on the guttural notes. Behind him, led by his little 
boy, came the blind fiddler, his honest features glow- 



126 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

ing with all the hilarity of a rustic bridal, and, as 
he stumbled along, sawing away upon his fiddle till 
he made all crack again. Then came the happy 
bridegroom, dressed in his Sunday suit of blue, with 
a large nosegay in his button-hole ; and close beside 
him his blushing bride, with downcast eyes, clad in 
a white robe and slippers, and wearing a wreath of 
white roses in her hair. The friends and relatives 
brought up the procession ; and a troop of village 
urchins came shouting along in the rear, scrambling 
among themselves for the largess of sous and sugar- 
plums that now and then issued in large handfuls 
from the pockets of a lean man in black, who seemed 
to officiate as master of ceremonies on the occasion. 
I gazed on the procession till it was out of sight; 
and, when the last wheeze of the clarinet died upon 
my ear, I could not help thinking how happy were 
they who were thus to dwell together in the peaceful 
bosom of their native village, far from the gilded 
misery and the pestilential vices of the town. 

" On the evening of the same day, I was sitting 
by the window, enjoying the freshness of the air and 
the beauty and stillness of the hour, when I heard 
the distant and solemn hymn of the Catholic burial- 
service, at first so faint and indistinct that it seemed 
an illusion. It rose mournfully on the hush of even- 
ing, died gradually away, then ceased. Then it rose 
again, nearer and more distinct ; and soon after a 
funeral procession appeared, and passed directly be- 
neath my window. It was led by a priest, bearing 
the banner of the church, and followed by two boys, 
holding long flambeaux in their hands. Next came 



Longfellow's first visit to Europe. 127 

a doable file of priests in their surplices, with a mis- 
sal ill one hand and a lighted wax taper in the other, 
chanting the funeral dirge at intervals, now paus- 
ing, and then again taking up the mournful burden 
of their lamentation, accompanied by others, who 
played upon a rude kind of bassoon, with a dismal 
and wailing sound. Then followed various symbols 
of the church, and the bier borne on the shoulders 
of four men. The coffin was covered with a velvet 
pall ; and a chaplet of white flowers lay upon it, indi- 
cating that the deceased was unmarried. A few of 
the villagers came behind, clad in mourning-robes, 
and bearing lighted tapers. The procession passed 
slowly along the same street that, in the morning, 
had been thronged by the gay bridal company. A 
melancholy train of thought forced itself home upon 
my mind. The joys and sorrows of this world are 
so strikingly mingled. Our mirth and grief are 
brought so mournfully in contact. We laugh while 
others weep, and others rejoice when we are sad. 
The light heart and the heavy walk side by side, 
and go about together. Beneath the same roof are 
spread the wedding-feast and the funeral-pall. The 
bridal-song mingles with the burial-hymn. One goes 
to the marriage-bed, another to the grave ; and all is 
mutable, uncertain, and transitory. 

" It is with sensations of pure delight that I recur 
to the brief period of my existence which was passed 
in the peaceful shades of Auteuil. There is one 
kind of wisdom which we learn from the world, and 
another kind which can be acquired in solitude only. 
In cities we study those around us, but in the re- 



128 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

tirement of tlie country we learn to know ourselves. 
The voice within us is more distinctly audible in the 
stillness of the place ; and the gentler affections of 
our nature spring up more freshly in its tranquillity 
and sunshine, nurtured by the healthy principle 
which we inhale with the pure air, and invigorated 
by the genial influences which descend into the 
heart from the quiet of the sylvan solitude around, 
and the soft serenity of the sky above." 

Longfellow spent nearly a month in the French 
capital ; and in October he resolved to make a foot- 
excursion along the banks of the Loire, from Orleans 
to Tours. This region is justly called the garden of 
France, and the whole valley is one continued vine- 
yard. But I must continue the narrative in the 
tourist's own words : — 

" The vintage had already commenced. The peas- 
antry were busy in the fields ; the song that cheered 
their labor was on the breeze ; and the heavy wagon 
tottered by, laden with the clusters of the vine. 
Every thing around me Avore that happy look which 
makes the heart glad. In the morning I arose with 
the lark, and at night I slept where sunset overtook 
me. The healthy exercise of foot-travelling, the 
pure, bracing air of autumn, and the cheerful aspect 
of the whole landscape about me, gave fresh elasticity 
to a mind not overburdened with care, and made me 
forget, not only the fatigue of walking, but also the 
consciousness of being alone. 

"My first day's journey brought me at evening 
to a village, whose name I have forgotten, situated 
about eight leagues from Orleans. It is a small, 



Longfellow's first visit to europe. 129 

obscure liamlet, not mentioned in the guide-book, 
and stands upon the precipitous banks of a deep 
ravine, through which a noisy brook leaps down to 
turn the ponderous wheel of a thatch-roofed mill. 
The village-inn stands upon the highway, but the 
village itself is not visible to the traveller as he 
passes. It is completely hidden in the lap of a 
wooded valley, and so embowered in trees that not 
a roof nor a chimney peeps out to betray its hiding- 
place. It is like the nest of a ground-swallow, which 
the passing footstep almost treads upon ; and yet it 
is not seen. I passed by without suspecting that a 
village was near, and the little inn had a look so 
uninviting that I did not even enter it. 

"After proceeding a mile or two farther, I per- 
ceived, upon my left, a village-spire rising over the 
vineyards. Towards this I directed my footsteps ; 
but it seemed to recede as I advanced, and at last 
quite disappeared. It was evidently man}'" miles 
distant ; and, as the path I followed descended from 
the highway, it had gradually sunk beneath a swell 
of the vine-clad landscape. I now found myself in 
the midst of an extensive vineyard. It was just 
sunset, and the last golden rays lingered on the rich 
and mellow scenery around me. The peasantry were 
still busy at their task ; and the occasional bark of a 
dog, and the distant sound of an evening-bell, gave 
fresh romance to the scene. The reality of many a 
day-dream of childhood, of many a poetic revery of 
youth, was before me. I stood at sunset amid the 
luxuriant vineyards of France ! 

" The first person I met was a poor old woman, a 



130 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

little bowed down with age, gathering grapes into 
a large basket. She was dressed like the poorest 
class of peasantry, and pursued her solitary task 
alone, heedless of the cheerful gossip and the merry 
laugh which came from a band of more youthful 
vintagers at a short distance from her. She was so 
intently engaged in her work, that she did not per- 
ceive my approach until I bade her good-evening. 
On hearing my voice, she looked up from her labor, 
and returned the salutation ; and, on my asking her if 
there were a tavern or a farmhouse in the neighbor- 
hood where I could pass the night, she showed me 
the pathway through the vineyard that led to the 
village, and then added, with a look of curiosity, — 

" ' You must be a stranger, sir, in these parts.' 

" ' Yes : my home is very far from here.' 

"'How far?' 

" ' More than a thousand leagues.' 

" The old woman looked incredulous. 

" ' I came from a distant land beyond the sea.' 

" ' More than a thousand leagues ! ' at length re- 
peated she ; ' and why have you come so far from 
home ? ' 

" '• To travel, — to see how you live in this coun- 
try.' 

"• '• Have you no relations in your own ? ' 

" ' Yes : I have both brothers and sisters, a father 
and ' — 

" ' And a mother ? ' 

" ' Thank Heaven, I have ! ' 

" ' And did you leave her f ' 

" Here the old woman gave me a piercing look of 



Longfellow's first vlsit to Europe. 131 

reproof, shook her head mournfully, and, with a deep 
sigh, as if some painful recollections had been awak- 
ened in her bosom, turned again to her solitary task. 
I felt rebuked, for there is something almost pro- 
phetic in the admonitions of the old. The eye of 
age looks meekly into ni}^ heart, the voice of age 
echoes mournfully through it, the hoary head and 
palsied hand of age plead irresistibly for its sympa- 
thies I I venerate old age ; and I love not the man 
who can look without emotion upon the sunset of 
life, when the dusk of evening begins to gather over 
the watery eye, and the shadows of twilight grow 
broader and deeper upon the understanding ! 

"• I pursued the pathway which led towards the 
village ; and the next person I encountered was an 
old man, stretched lazily beneath the vines upon a 
little strip of turf, at a point where four paths met, 
forming a crossway in the vineyard. He was clad 
in a coarse garb of gray, with a pair of long gaiters 
or spatterdashes. Beside him lay a blue cloth cap, a 
staff, and an old weather-beaten knapsack. I saw at 
once that he was a foot-traveller like myself, and 
therefore, without more ado, entered into conversa- 
tion with him. From his language, and the peculiar 
manner in which he now and then wiped his upper 
lip with the back of his hand, as if in search of the 
mustache which was no longer there, I judged that 
he had been a soldier. In this opinion I was not 
mistaken. He had served under Napoleon, and had 
followed the imperial eagle across the Alps and the 
Pyrenees, and the burning sands of Egypt. Like 
every vieille moustache^ he spake with enthusiasm of 



132 HENllY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

the Little Corporal, and cursed the English, the 
Germans, the Spanish, and every other race on earth, 
except the Great Nation, — his own. 

" ' I like,' said he, ' after a long day's march, to lie 
down in this way upon the grass, and enjoy the cool 
of the evening. It reminds me of the bivouacs of 
other days, and of old friends who are now up there.' 

" Here he pointed with his finger to the sky. 

" ' They have reached the last etape before me, in 
the long march. But I shall go soon. We shall all 

meet again at the last roll-call. Sacre nom de ! 

There's a tear ! ' 

" He wiped it away with his sleeve. 

" Here our colloquy was interrupted by the ap- 
proach of a group of vintagers, who were returning 
homeward from their labor. To this party I joined 
myself, and invited the old soldier to do the same ; 
but he shook his head. 

" ' I thank you : my pathway lies in a different 
direction.' 

" ' But there is no other village near, and the sun 
has already set.' 

" ' No matter, I am used to sleeping on the ground. 
Good-night.' 

" I left the old man to his meditations, and walked 
on in company with the vintagers. Following a 
well-trodden pathway through the vineyards, we 
soon descended the valley's slope ; and I suddenly 
found myself in the bosom of one of those little 
hamlets from wliich the laborer rises to his toil as 
the skylark to his song. My companions wished me 
a good-night, as each entered his own thatch-roofed 



Longfellow's first visit to europk. 13^ 

cottage ; and a little girl led me out to the very inn 
which an hour or two before I had disdained to enter. 

" When I awoke in the morning, a brilliant au- 
tumnal sun was shining in at my window. The 
merry song of birds mingled sweetly with the sound 
of rustling leaves and the gurgle of the brook. The 
vintagers were going forth to their toil, the wine- 
press was busy in the shade, and the clatter of the 
mill kept time to the miller's song. I loitered about 
the village with a feeling of calm delight. I was 
unwilling to leave the seclusion of this sequestered 
hamlet: but at length, with reluctant step, I took 
the cross-road through the vineyard ; and in a moment 
the little village had sunk again, as if by enchant- 
ment, into the bosom of the earth. 

" I breakfasted at the town of Mer, and, leaving 
the high-road to Blois on the right, passed down to 
the banks of the Loire, through a long, broad avenue 
of poplars and sycamores. I crossed the river in a 
boat ; and, in the after part of the day, I found myself 
before the high and massive walls of the chateau of 
Chambord. This chateau is one of the finest speci- 
mens of the ancient Gothic castle to be found in 
Europe. The little river Cosson fills its deep and 
ample moat ; and above it the huge towers and heavy 
battlements rise in stern and solemn grandeur, moss- 
grown with age, and blackened by the storms of three 
centuries. Within, all is mournful and deserted. 
The grass has overgrown the pavement of the court- 
yard, and the rude sculpture upon the walls is broken 
and defaced. From the courtyard I entered the cen- 
tral tower, and, ascending the principal staircase, 



134 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

wear out upon the battlements. I seemed to have 
stepped back into the precincts of the feudal ages ; 
and as I passed along through echoing corridors, and 
vast, deserted halls, stripped of their furniture, and 
mouldering silently awa}-, the distant past came back 
upon me, and the times when the clang of arms, and 
the tramp of mail-clad men, and the sounds of music 
and revelry and wassail, echoed along those high- 
vaulted and solitary chambers. 

" My third day's journey brought me to the ancient 
city of Blois, the chief town of the department of 
Loire-et-Cher. This city is celebrated for the purity 
with which even the lower classes of its inhabitants 
speak their native tongue. It rises precipitously 
from the northern bank of the Loire, and many of 
its streets are so steep as to be almost impassable for 
carriages. On the brow of the hill, overlooking the 
roofs of the city, and commanding a fine view of the 
Loire and its noble bridge, and the surrounding coun- 
try sprinkled with cottages and chateaux, runs an 
ample terrace, planted with trees, and laid out as a 
public walk. The view from this terrace is one of 
the most beautiful in France. But what most strikes 
the eye of the traveller at Blois is an old, though still 
unfinished, castle. Its huge parapets of hewn stone 
stand upon either side of the street ; but they have 
walled up the wide gateway, from which the colossal 
drawbridge was to have sprung high in air, connect- 
ing together the main towers of the building, and 
the two hills upon whose slope its foundations stand. 
The aspect of this vast pile is gloomy and desolate. 
It seems as if the strong hand of tlie builder had 



Longfellow's first visit to Europe. 135 

been an-ested in tbe midst of his task by the stronger 
hand of death ; and the unfinished fabric stands a 
histing monument, both of the power and weakness- 
of man, — of his vast desires, his sanguine hopes, his 
ambitious purposes, — and of the unlooked-for con- 
clusion, where all these desires and hopes and pur- 
poses are so often arrested. There is also at Blois 
another ancient chateau, to which some historic inter- 
est is attached, as being the scene of the massacre of 
the Duke of Guise. 

" On the following day I left Blois for Amboise, 
and, after walking several leagues along the dusty 
highway, crossed the river in a boat to the little 
village of Moines, which lies amid luxuriant vine- 
yards upon the southern bank of the Loire. From 
Moines to Amboise the road is truly delightful. The 
rich lowland scenery, by the margin of the river, is 
verdant, even in October ; and occasionally the land- 
scape is diversified with the picturesque cottages of 
the vintagers cut in the rock along the roadside, and 
overnung by the thick foliage of the vines above 
them. 

" At Amboise I took a cross-road, which led me to 
the romantic borders of the Cher and the chateau of 
Chenonceau. This beautiful chateau, as well as that 
of Chambord, was built by the gay and munificent 
Francis the First. One is a specimen of strong and 
massive architecture, — a dwelling for a warrior ; but 
the other is of a lighter and more graceful construc- 
tion, and was destined for those soft languishraents 
of passion with which the fascinating Diane de 
Poitiers had filled the bosom of that voluptuous 
monarch. 



136 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

" The chateau of Chenonceau is built upon arches 
across the river Cher, whose waters are made to sup- 
ply the deep moat at each extremity. There is a 
spacious court-yard in front, from which a drawbridge 
conducts to the outer hall of the castle. There the 
armor of Francis the First still hangs upon the wall, 
— his shield and helm and lance, — as if the chival- 
rous prince had just exchanged them for the silken 
robes of the drawing-room. From this hall a door 
opens into a long gallery, extending the whole length 
of the building across the Cher. The walls of the 
gallery are hung with the faded portraits of the long 
line of the descendants of Hugh Capet ; and the win- 
dows, looking up and down the stream, command a 
tine reach of pleasant river scenery. This is said to 
be the only chateau in France in which the ancient 
furniture of its original age is preserved. In one 
part of the building, you are shown the bed-chamber 
of Diane de Poitiers, with its antique chairs covered 
with faded damask and embroidery, her bed, and a 
portrait of the royalfavorite hanging over the mantel- 
piece. In another, you see the apartment of the in- 
famous Catherine de' Medici ; a venerable arm-chair 
and an autograph letter of Henry the Fourth ; and 
in an old laboratory, among broken crucibles and 
neckless retorts, and drums and trumpets, and skins 
of wild beasts, and other ancient lumber of various 
kinds, are to be seen the bed-posts of Francis the 
First. Doubtless the naked walls and the vast, soli- 
tary chambers of an old and desolate chateau inspire 
a feeling of greater solemnity and awe ; but when the 
antique furniture of the olden time remains, — the 



Longfellow's first visit to europe. 137 

faded tapestry on the walls, and the arm-chair by 
the fireside, — the effect upon the mind is more magi- 
cal and delightful. The old inhabitants of the place, 
long gathered to their fathers, though living still in 
history, seem to have left their halls for the chase 
or the tournament ; and, as the heavy door swings 
upon its reluctant hinge, one almost expects to see 
the gallant princes and courtly dames enter those 
halls again, and sweep in stately procession along 
the silent corridors. 

" Rapt in such fancies as these, and gazing on the 
beauties of this noble edifice, and the soft scenery 
around it, I lingered, unwilling to depart, till the 
rays of the setting sun, streaming through the dusty 
windows, admonished me that the day was drawing 
rapidly to a close. I sallied forth from the southern 
gate of the chateau, and, crossing the broken draw- 
bridge, pursued a pathway along the bank of the 
river, still gazing back upon those towering walls, 
now bathed in the rich glow of sunset, till a turn in 
the road and a clump of woodland at length shut 
them out from my sight. 

" A short time after candle-lighting, I reached the 
little tavern of the Boule d'Or, a few leagues from 
Tours, where I passed the night. The following 
morning was lowering and sad. A veil of mist hung 
over the landscape ; and ever and anon a heavy 
shower burst from the overburdened clouds, that 
were driving by before a high and piercing wind. 
This unpropitious state of the weather detained me 
until noon, when a cabriolet for Tours drove up ; 
and, taking a seat within it, I left the hostess of the 



138 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. ' 

Boule d'Or in the middle of a long story about a rich 
countess, who always alighted there when she passed 
that way. We drove leisurely along through a beau- 
tiful country, till at length we came to the brow of 
a steep hill, which commands a fine view of the city 
of Tours and its delightful environs. But the scene 
was shrouded by the heavy, drifting mist, through 
which I could trace but indistinctly the graceful 
sweep of the Loire, and the spires and roofs of the 
cit}^ far below me. 

" The city of Tours and the delicious plain in 
which it lies have been too often described by other 
travellers to render a new description, from so listless 
a pen as mine, either necessary or desirable. After 
a sojourn of two cloudy and melancholy days, I set 
out on my return to Paris, by the way of VendSme 
and Chartres. I stopped a few hours at the former 
place, to examine the ruins of a chateau built by 
Jeanne d'Albret, mother of Henry the Fourth. It 
stands upon the summit of a high and precipitous 
hill, and almost overhangs the town beneath. The 
French Revolution has completed the ruin that time 
had already begun ; and nothing now remains but a 
broken and crumbling bastion, and here and there 
a solitary tower dropping slowly to decay. In one 
of these is the grave of Jeanne d'Albret. A marble 
entablature in the wall above contains the inscription, 
Avhich is nearly effaced ; though enough still remains 
to tell the curious traveller that there lies buried 
the mother of the ' Bon Henri.' To this is added 
a prayer that the repose of the dead may be re- 
spected. 



Longfellow's first visit to Europe. 139 

" Here ended my foot-excursion. The object of 
my journey was accomplished ; and, delighted with 
this short ramble through the valley of the Loire, I 
took my seat in the diligence for Paris, and, on the 
following day, was again swallowed up in the crowds 
of the metropolis, like a drop in the bosoin of the 
sea." 

The winter of 182G-7 was spent wholly in Paris ; 
and Longfellow now devoted most of his time to 
acquiring a more intimate knowledge of the French 
language, and of the literature of France. He was 
almost a perfect stranger in the city, having no 
friends except those to whom he had introduced 
himself, and by whom he had been hospitably wel- 
comed. To be sure, he had brought with him from 
America letters of introduction to certain persons of 
note and of influence in Paris ; but he chose to have 
little to do with these, and to rely upon himself as 
much as possible. The knowledge of the language, 
which he had acquired in college, although somewhat 
superficial, served him quite well ; and it was not 
long before he was able to converse with considerable 
readiness with those with whom he was brought in 
contact. 

Nor did he pursue the course of study carelessly 
and without system. One hour each day through 
the season, he took lessons of an experienced teacher, 
was a frequent visitor at the several reading-rooms, 
and often went to the theatres, where he would fol- 
low the actors with a printed copy of the play before 
him. As it happened, most of the plays were the 
compositions of the standard authors of France ; for 



140 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

not yet had the drama degenerated into the low 
tone and anomalous character that it exhibits on the 
French stage of to-day. Longfellow was also a fre- 
quent auditor in the lecture-rooms, where he profited 
by the words of wisdom that fell from the lips of 
some of the most distinguished scholars and orators 
of France. 

Not the smallest portion of his time was consumed 
in the quiet of his own lodgings. Here he first be- 
came acquainted with the fabliaux^ or metrical tales 
of the Trouveres, the troubadours of the North. Of 
these he made several translations, a few of them 
being still preserved. 

The winter had barely come to an end, when Long- 
fellow again set out on a fresh tour of the country, 
this time through the south of France. For " five 
weary days and four weary nights " he was travelling 
on the road leading from Paris to Bordeaux. On 
leaving Orleans, instead of following the mail-route 
through Tours, Poitiers, and Angouleme, and thence 
on to Bordeaux, he chose a route across the depart- 
ments of the Indre, Haute -Vienne, and the Dordogne, 
passing through the provincial capitals of Chateau- 
roux, Limoges, and Perigueux. 

Longfellow reached Bordeaux at the height of the 
carnival season, and left it amid the noise and gayety 
of the last scene, when all was " so full of mirth and 
merrymake, that even beggary seemed to have for- 
gotten that it was wretched, and gloried in the 
ragged masquerade of one poor holiday." To this 
scene of noise succeeded the silence and solitude of 
the Landes of Gascony. On leaving Bayonne, the 



Longfellow's first visit to Europe. 141 

landscape assumed a character of greater beauty and 
sublimity. Ere long, rose the Pyrenees, — 

" Bounded afar by peak aspiring bold, 
Like giant capped with helm of burnished gold." 

*' Just at nightfall we entered the town of St. Jean 
de Luz, and dashed down its narrow streets at full 
gallop. The little madcap postilion cracked his 
knotted whip incessantly, and the sound echoed back 
from the high dingy walls like the report of a pistol. 
The coach-wheels nearly touched the houses on each 
side of us ; the idlers in the street jumped right and 
left to save themselves ; window-shutters flew open 
in all directions ; a thousand heads popped out from 
cellar and upper story ; ' Sacr-r-re matin ! ' shouted 
the postilion, — and we rattled on like an earth- 
quake. 

" St. Jean de Luz is a smoky little fishing-town, 
situated on the low grounds at the mouth of the 
Nivelle ; and a bridge connects it with the faubourg 
of Sibourne, which stands on the opposite bank of 
the river. I had no time, however, to note the pecul- 
iarities of the place, for I was whirled out of it with 
the same speed and confusion with which I had been 
whirled in ; and I can only recollect the sweep of the 
road across the Nivelle, the church of Sibourne by 
the water's edge, the narrow streets, the smoky- 
looking houses with red window-shutters, and ' a 
very ancient and fish-like smell.' 

" I passed by moonlight the little river Bidasoa. 
which forms the boundary between France and 
Spain, and, when the morning broke, found myself 



142 HENEY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

far up among the mountains of San Salvador, the 
most westerly links of the great Pyrenean chain. 
The mountains around me were neither rugged nor 
precipitous, but they rose one above another in a 
long, majestic swell ; and the trace of the ploughshare 
was occasionally visible to their summits. They 
seemed entirely destitute of trees ; and, as the season 
of vegetation had not jet commenced, their huge 
outlines lay black and barren and desohite against 
the sky. But it was a glorious morning ; and the sun 
rose up into a cloudless heaven, and poured a flood 
of gorgeous splendor over the mountain landscape, 
as if proud of the realm he shone upon. The scene 
was enlivened by the dashing of a swollen mountain- 
brook, whose course we followed for miles down the 
valley, as it leaped onward to its journey's end, now 
breaking into a white cascade, and now foaming and 
chafing beneath a rustic bridge. Now and then we 
drove through a dilapidated town, with a group of 
idlers at every corner, wrapped in tattered brown 
cloaks, and smoking their little paper cigars in the 
sun ; then would succeed a desolate tract of country, 
cheered only by the tinkle of a mule-bell, or the song 
of a muleteer ; then we would meet a solitary trav- 
eller mounted on horseback, and wrapped in the 
ample folds of his cloak, with a gun hanging at 
the pommel of his saddle. Occasionally, too, among 
the bleak, inhospitable hills, we passed a rude little 
chapel, with a cluster of ruined cottages around it ; 
and whenever our carriage stopped at the relay, or 
loitered slowly up the hillside, a crowd of children 
would gather around us, with little images and cruci- 



Longfellow's first visit to Europe. 143 

fixes for sale, curiously ornamented with ribbons, and 
bits of tawdry finery. 

" A day's journey from the frontier brought us to 
Vitoria, where the diligence stopped for the night. 
I spent the scanty remnant of daylight in rambling 
about the streets of the city, with no other guide 
than the whim of the moment. Now I plunged down 
a dark and narrow alley, now emerged into a wide 
street or a spacious market-place, and now aroused 
the drowsy echoes of a church or cloister with the 
sound of my intruding footsteps. But descriptions 
of churches and public squares are dull and tedious 
matters for those readers who are in search of amuse- 
ment, and not of instruction ; and, if any one has 
accompanied me thus far on my fatiguing journey 
towards the Spanish capital, I will readily excuse him 
from the toil of an evening ramble through the streets 
of Vitoria. 

" On the following morning we left the town, long 
before daybreak ; and, during our forenoon's journey, 
the postilion drew up at an inn, on the southern 
slope of the Sierra de San Lorenzo, in the province 
of Old Castile. The house was an old, dilapidated 
tenement, built of rough stone, and coarsely plas- 
tered upon the outside. The tiled roof had long 
been the sport of wind and rain, the motley coat 
of plaster was broken and time-worn, and the whole 
building sadly out of repair ; though the fanciful 
mouldings under the eaves, and the curiously carved 
wood-work that supported the little balcony over the 
principal entrance, spoke of better days gone by. The 
whole building reminded me of a dilapidated Spanish 



144 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

don, down at the heel and out at elbows, but Avith 
here and there a remnant of former magnificence 
peeping through the loop-holes of his tattered cloak. 

"A wide gateway ushered the traveller into the 
interior of the building, and conducted him to a low- 
roofed apartment, paved with round stones, and 
serving both as a court-yard and a stable. It seemed 
to be a neutral ground for man and beast, — a little 
republic, where horse and rider had common privi- 
leges, and mule and muleteer lay cheek by jowl. In 
one corner a poor jackass was patiently devouring a 
bundle of musty straw; in another, its master lay 
sound asleep, with his saddle-cloth for a pillow,- here 
a group of muleteers were quarrelling over a pack of 
dirty cards ; and there the village barber, with a self- 
important air, stood laving the alcalde's chin from 
the helmet of Mambrino. On the wall a little taper 
glimmered feebly before an image of St. Anthony ; 
directly opposite these a leathern wine-bottle hung 
by the neck from a pair of ox-horns . and the pave- 
ment below was covered with a curious medley of 
boxes and bags and cloaks and pack-saddles, and 
sacks of grain and skins of wine, and all kinds of 
lumber. 

" A small door upon the right led us into the inn- 
kitchen. It was a room about ten feet square, and 
literally all chimney; for the hearth was in the 
centre of the floor, and the walls sloped upward in 
the form of a long, narrow pvramid, with an opening 
at the top for the escape of the smoke. Quite round 
this little room ran a row of benches, upon which sat 
one or two grave personages smoking paper cigars. 



Longfellow's first visit to eukoi'e. 145 

Upon the hearth bUized a handful of fagots, whose 
bright flame danced merrily among a motley congre- 
gation of pots and kettles; and a long wreath of 
smoke wound lazily up through the huge tunnel of 
the roof above. The walls were black with soot, and 
ornamented with sundry legs of bacon and festoons 
of sausages ; and, as there were no windows in this 
dingy abode, the only light which cheered the dark- 
ness within came flickering from the fire upon the 
hearth, and the smoky sunbeams that peeped down 
the long-necked chimney. 

" I had not been long seated by the fire, when the 
tinkling of mule-bells, the clatter of hoofs, and the 
hoarse voice of a muleteer in the outer apartment, 
announced the arrival of new guests. A few mo- 
ments afterward the kitchen-door opened, and a. 
person entered, whose appearance strongly arrested 
my attention. It was a tall, athletic figure, with the- 
majestic carriage of a grandee, and a dark, sunburnt, 
countenance, that indicated an age of about fifty 
years. His dress was singular, and such as I had not 
before seen. He wore a round hat with wide, flap- 
ping brim, from beneath which his long black hair 
hung in curls upon his shoulders ; a leather jerkin, 
with cloth sleeves, descended to his hips ; around his 
waist was closely buckled a leather belt, with a car- 
touch-box on one side ; a pair of loose trousers of 
black serge hung in ample folds to the knees, around 
which they were closely gathered by embroidered 
garters of blue silk ; and black broadcloth leggins, 
buttoned close to the calves, and strapped over a pair 
of brown leather shoes, completed the singular dress 



146 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

of the stranger. He doffed his hat as he entered, 
and saluting the company with a ' Dios guarde d 
Ustedes^ cahalleros ' (' God guard you, gentlemen '), 
took a seat by the fire, and entered into conversation 
with those around him. 

" As my curiosity was not a little excited by the 
peculiar dress of this person, I inquired of a travel- 
ling companion, who sat at my elbow, who and what 
this new-comer was. From him I learned that he 
was a muleteer of the Maragateria, — a name given 
to a cluster of small towns which lie in the mountain- 
ous country between Astorga and Villafranca, in the 
western corner of the kingdom of Leon. 

"'Nearly every province in Spain,' said he, 'has 
its peculiar costume, as you will see when you have 
udvanced farther into our country. For instance, 
the Catalonians wear crimson caps, hanging down 
upon the shoulder like a sack ; wide pantaloons of 
rgreen velvet, long enough in tlie waistband to cover 
the whole breast ; and a little strip of a jacket, made 
(of the same material, and so short as to bring the 
pocket directly under the armpit. The Valencians, 
on the contrary, go almost naked : a linen shirt ; 
white linen trousers, reaching no lower than the 
knees ; and a pair of coarse leather sandals complete 
their simple garb : it is only in mid-wmter that they 
indulge in the luxury of a jacket. The most beauti- 
ful and expensive costume, however, is that of Anda- 
lusia : it consists of a velvet jacket, faced with rich 
and various-colored embroidery, and covered with 
tassels and silken cord ; a waistcoat of some gay 
color ; a silken handkerchief round the neck, and a 



Longfellow's first visit to europe. 147 

crimson sash round the waist ; breeches that button 
down each side ; gaiters and shoes of white leather ; 
and a handkerchief of bright-colored silk wound about 
the head like a turban, and surmounted by a velvet 
cap, or a little round hat with a wide band, and an 
abundance of silken loops and tassels. The Old Cas- 
tilians are more grave in their attire : they wear a 
leather breastplate instead of a jacket, breeches and 
leggings, and a montera cap. This fellow is a Mara- 
gato ; and in the villages of the Maragateria the 
costume varies a little from the rest of Leon and 
Castile.' 

" ' If he is indeed a Maragato,' said I jestingly, 
* who knows but he may be a descendant of the 
muleteer who behaved so naughtily at Cacabelos, as 
related in the second chapter of the veracious history 
of Gil Bias de Santillana ? ' 

" ' ^ Quien sahe ? ' was the reply. ' Notwithstand- 
ing the pride which even the meanest Castilian feels 
in counting over a long line of good-for-nothing 
ancestors, the science of genealogy has become of late 
a very intricate study in Spain.' 

" Here our conversation was cut short by the May- 
oral of the diligence, who came to tell us that the mules 
were waiting ; and, before many hours had elapsed, 
we were scrambling through the square of the ancient 
city of Burgos. On the morrow we crossed the river 
Duero and the Guadarrama Mountains, and early in 
the afternoon entered the ' Herdica Villa ' of Madrid, 
by the Puerta de Fuencarral." 

Our traveller loitered in the famous and romantic 
old city of Madrid until the last of May. Again he 



148 HENHY WADSWORTH LOjSIGFELLOW. 

renewed his severer studies, and became enamored of 
the " soft and yet majestic language that falls like 
martial music on the ear, and a literature rich in the 
attractive lore of poetry and fiction." In June he 
repaired to the village of El Pardillo, situated on the 
southern slope of the Guadarrama Mountains, just 
where the last broken spurs of the Sierra stretch 
forward into the vast table-land of New Castile. He 
says, — 

" In this quiet place I sojourned for a season, ac- 
companied by the publican Don Valentin and his 
fair daughter Florencia. We took up our abode in 
the cottage of a peasant named Lucas, an honest 
tiller of the soil, simple and good-natured, or, in the 
more emphatic language of Don Valentin, ' un hombre 
muy infeliz, y sin malicia ninguna.'' Not so his wife 
Matina : she was a Tartar, arid so mettlesome withal, 
that poor Lucas skulked doggedly about his own 
premises, with his head down, and his tail between 
his legs. 

" In this little village my occupations were few and 
simple. My morning's walk was to the Cross of Es- 
palmado, a large wooden crucifix in the fields ; the 
day was passed with books, or with any idle compan- 
ion I was lucky enough to catch by the button, and 
bribe with a cigar into a long story, or a little village 
gossip ; and I whiled away the evening in peeping 
round among the cottagers, studying the beautiful 
landscape that spread before me, and watcliing the 
occasional gathering of a storm about the blue peaks 
of the Guadarrama Mountains. My favorite haunt 
was a secluded spot in a little woodland valley, 



Longfellow's fikst visit to Europe. 149' 

through wliich a crystal brook ran brawling along 
its pebbly channel. There, stretched in the shadow 
of a tree, I often passed the hours of noontide heat, 
now reading the magic numbers of Garcilaso, and 
anon listening to the song of the nightingale over- 
head; or watching the toil of a patient ant, as he 
rolled his stone, like Sisyphus, up hill ; or the flight 
of a bee darting from flower to flower, and ' hiding 
his murmurs in the rose.' 

" The village church, too, was a spot around which 
I occasionally lingered of an evening, when in pen- 
sive or melancholy mood. It is a gloomy little edi- 
fice, standing upon the outskirts of the village, and 
built of dark and unhewn stone, with a spire like 
a sugar-loaf. There is no grass-plot in front, but a 
little esplanade beaten hard by the footsteps of the 
church-going peasantry. The tombstone of one of 
the patriarchs of the village serves as a doorstep, and 
a single solitary tree throws its friendly shade upon 
the portals of the little sanctuary. 

" I must not forget, in this place, to make honor- 
able mention of the little great men of El Pardillo. 
And first in order comes the priest. He was a short, 
portly man, serious in manner, and of grave and rev- 
erend presence ; though at the same time there was 
a dash of the jolly-fat-friar about him; and, on hear- 
ing a good joke or a sly innuendo, a smile would 
gleam in his eye, and play over his round face, like 
the light of a glowworm. His housekeeper was a 
brisk, smiling little woman, on the shady side of 
thirty, and a cousin of his to boot. Whenever she 
was mentioned, Don Valentin looked wise, as if this 



150 HENRY WADSWOKTH LONGFELLOW. 

cousinship were apocryphal ; but he said nothing, — ■ 
not he ; what right had he to be peeping into other 
people's business, when he had only one eye to look 
after his own withal ? Next in rank to the dominie 
was the alcalde, justice of the peace and quorum, 
a most potent, grave, and reverend personage, with 
a long beak of a nose, and a pouch under his chin, 
like a pelican. He was a man of few words, but 
great in authority; and his importance was vastly 
increased in the village by a pair of double-barrelled 
spectacles, so contrived, that, when bent over his 
desk and deeply buried in his musty papers, he could 
look up and see what was going on around him with- 
out moving his head, whereby he got the reputation 
of seeing twice as much as other people. There was 
the village surgeon, too, a tall man with a varnished 
hat and a starved dog : he had studied at the Uni- 
versity of Salamanca, and was pompous and pedantic, 
ever and anon quoting some threadbare maxim from 
the Greek philosophers, and embellishing it with a 
commentary of his own. Then there was the gray- 
headed sacristan, who rang the church-bell, played 
on the organ, and was learned in tombstone-lore ; 
a politician, who talked me to death about taxes, 
liberty, and the days of the constitution ; and a no- 
tary public, a poor man with a large family, who 
would make a paper cigar last half an hour, and who 
kept up his respectability in the village by keeping 
a horse. 

" Beneath the protecting shade of these great men, 
full many an inhabitant of El Pardillo was born and 
buried. The village continued to flourish, a quiet. 



Longfellow's first visit to eukope. 151 

happy place, though all unknown to fame. The in- 
habitants were orderly and industrious, went regu- 
larly to mass and confession, kept every saint's day 
in the calendar, and devoutly hung Judas once a 
year in effigy. On Sundays and all other holidays, 
when mass was over, the time was devoted to sports 
and recreation ; and the day passed off in social visit- 
ing, and athletic exercises, such as running, leaping, 
wrestling, pitching quoits, and heaving the bar. 
When evening came, the merry sound of the guitar 
summoned to the dance ; then every nook and alley 
poured forth its youthful company, light of heart 
and heel, and decked out in all the holiday finery of 
flowers and ribbons and crimson sashes. A group 
gathered before the cottage-door ; the signal was- 
given ; and away whirled the merry dancers to the 
wild music of voice and guitar, and the measured 
beat of Castanet and tambourine. 

" I love these rural dances, — from my heart I love 
them. This world, at best, is so full of care and 
sorrow, — the life of a poor man is so stained with, 
the sweat of his brow, — there is so much toil and 
struggling and anguish and disappointment here 
below, that I gaze with delight on a scene where all 
these are laid aside and forgotten, and the heart of 
the toil-worn peasant seems to throw off its load, and 
to leap to the sound of music, when merrily, 

" ' Beneath soft eve's consenting star, 
Fandango twirls his jocund castanet.' 

" Not many miles from the village of El Pardillo 
stands the ruined castle of Villafranca, an ancient 



152 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGI^ELLOW. 

stronghold of the Moors of the fifteenth century. It 
is built upon the summit of a hill, of easy ascent 
upon one side, but precipitous and inaccessible on 
the other. 

"One holiday, when mass was said and the whole 
village was let loose to play, we made a pilgrimage 
to the ruins of this old Moorish alcazar. Our caval- 
cade was as motley as that of old, — the pilgrims 
' that toward Canterbury wolden ride ; ' for we had 
the priest, and the doctor of physic, and the man of 
laws, and a wife of Bath, and many more whom I 
must leave unsung. Merrily flew the hours and fast ; 
and, sitting after dinner in the gloomy hall of that 
old castle, many a tale was told, and many a legend 
and tradition of the past conjured up to satisfy the 
•curiosity of the present." 

Quitting Madrid, Longfellow visited tlie plains of 
La Mancha. On the fourth day of the journey, he 
came to Manzanares, where he dined, was shaved by 
the village barber, and then was variously enter- 
tained by one of the characters of the place. On 
the twelfth day he arrived at Seville, that "pleas- 
ant city, famous for oranges and women." He was 
disappointed at finding it less beautiful than his im- 
agination had pictured it. He was di:?appointed in 
another respect, — he had come all the way from 
Madrid to Seville without being robbed ! 

His impression of Cadiz was more favorable. In- 
deed, he thought it "■ beautiful almost beyond imagi- 
nation." As he journcA^ed onward, and crossed the 
Sierra Nevada, he overtook a solitary rider, who was 
singing a wild national song, to cheer the loneliness 



LONGFELLOW'S FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 153 

of his journey. This personage was a contraband- 
ista, — a smuggler between (iranada and the seaport 
of Velez-MahTga. The contrabandista accompanied 
Longfelkiw to (iranada, which they together entered 
on a Saturday night. The following morning Long- 
fellow visited the Alhambra, of which he thus 
writes : — 

" This morning I visited the Alhambra, an en- 
chanted palace, whose exquisite beauty baffles the 
power of language to describe. Its outlines may be 
drawn, its halls and galleries, its court-yards and its 
fountains, numbered ; but what skilful limner shall 
portray in words its curious architecture, the gro- 
tesque ornaments, the quaint devices, the rich tra- 
cery of the walls, the ceilings inlaid with pearl and 
tortoise-shell ? what language paint the magic hues 
of light and shade, the shimmer of the sunbeam as 
it falls upon the marble pavement, and the brilliant 
panels inlaid with many-colored stones ? Vague rec- 
ollections fill my mind, — images dazzling but unde- 
fined, like the memory of a gorgeous dream. They 
crowd my brain confusedly, but they will not stay. 
They change and mingle, like the tremulous sunshine 
on the wave, till imagination itself is dazzled, bewil- 
dered, overpowered I 

" What most arrests the stranger's foot within the 
walls of the Alhambra is the refinement of luxury 
which he sees at every step. He lingers in the de- 
serted bath : he pauses to gaze upon the now vacant 
saloon, where, stretched upon his gilded couch, the 
effeminate monarch of the East was wooed to sleep 
by softly breathing music. What more delightful 



154 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

than this sechided garden, green with the leaf of the 
myrtle and the orange, and freshened with the gush 
of fountains, beside whose basin the nightingale still 
wooes the blushing rose ? What more fanciful, more 
exquisite, more like a creation of Oriental magic, 
than the lofty tower of the Tocador, its airy sculp- 
ture resembling the fretwork of wintry frost, and 
its windows overlooking the romantic valley of the 
Darro, and the city, with its gardens, domes, and 
spires far, far below? Cool through this lattice 
comes the summer- wind from the icy summits of 
the Sierra Nevada. Softly in yonder fountain falls 
the crystal water, dripping from its marble vase with 
never-ceasing sound. On every side comes up the 
fragrance of a thousand flowers, the murmur of in- 
numerable leaves ; and overhead is a sky where not 
a vapor floats, as soft and blue and radiant as the 
eye of childhood ! 

"Such is the Alhambra of Granada; a fortress, — 
a palace, — an earthly paradise, — a ruin, wonderful 
in its fallen greatness I " 

Longfellow prolonged his wanderings in France 
and Spain till the winter season had fairly set in ; 
and on the 15th of December, 1827, he set out to 
make a tour into Italy. At Marseilles he had met and 
become acquainted with a pilgrim-scholar like him- 
self, George Washington Greene of East Greenwich, 
R.I., who had been obliged to leave college in conse- 
quence of ill health, and who had now gone to 
Europe for the purpose of recuperation. Greene 
was a young man of generous impulses, a hard and 
ambitious student, and a trusty and faithful friend. 



LONGFELLOW'S FlItST VISIT TO EUKOPE. 155 

The first nieeting of these two spirits was one by the 
merest chance, but out of it sprang a most intimate 
and life-long attachment. 

Longfellow started with Greene from Marseilles, 
and, taking the seashore-road through Toulon, Dra- 
guignan, and Nice, journeyed on to Genoa. At 
Toulon the party took a private carriage in order to 
pursue the tour more leisurely and more at ease. 
On the 24th, Genoa was reached, — Genoa, the city 
of palaces. He writes, — 

" It was Christmas eve, — a glorious night ! I 
stood at midnight on the wide terrace of our hotel, 
which overlooks the sea, and, gazing on the tiny 
and crisping waves that broke in pearly light be- 
neath the moon, sent back my wandering thoughts 
far over the sea, to a distant home. The jangling 
music of church-bells aroused me from my dream. 
It was the sound of jubilee at the approaching festi- 
val of the Nativity, and summoned alike the pious- 
devotee, the curious stranger, and the gallant lover 
to the church of the Annunziata. 

" I descended from the terrace, and, groping my 
way through one of the dark and narrow lanes which 
intersect the city in all directions, soon found myself 
in the Strada Nuova. The long line of palaces lay 
half in shadow, half in light, stretching before me in 
magical perspective, like the long, vapory opening of 
a cloud in the summer sky. Following the various 
groups that were passing onward towards the pub- 
lic square, I entered the church, where midnight 
mass was to be chanted. A dazzling blaze of light 
from the high altar shone upon the red marble col- 



156 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

umns which support the roof, and fell with a solemn 
effect upon the kneeling crowd that filled the body 
of the church. All beyond was in darkness ; and 
from that darkness at intervals burst forth the deep 
voice of the organ and the chanting of the choir, 
filling the soul with solemnity and awe. And yet 
among that prostrate crowd, how many had been 
drawn thither by unworthy motives, — motives even 
more unworthy than mere idle curiosity ! How many 
sinful purposes arose in souls unpurified, and mocked 
at the bended knee ! How many a heart beat wild 
with earthly passion, while the unconscious lip re- 
peated the accustomed prayer ! Immortal spirit ! 
canst thou so heedlessly resist the imploring voice 
that calls thee from thine errors and pollutions ? Is 
not the long day long enough, is not the wide world 
wide enough, has not society frivolity enough for 
thee, that thou shouldst seek out this midnight hour, 
this holy place, this solemn sacrifice, to add irrever- 
ence to thy folly ? 

" The city of Genoa is magnificent in parts, but 
not as a whole. The houses are high, and the streets 
in general so narrow, that in many of them you may 
«,lmost step across from side to side. They are built 
to receive the cool sea-breeze, and shut out the burn- 
ing sun. Only three of them — if my memory serves 
me — are wide enough to admit the passage of car- 
riages ; and these three form but one continuous 
street, — the street of palaces. They are the Strada 
Nuova, the Strada Novissima, and the Strada Balbi, 
which connect the Piazza Amorosa with the Piazza 
deir Annunziata. These palaces, the Doria, the Du- 



LONGFELLOW'S FIRST VISIT TO KTJllOPE. 157 

razzo, the Ducul Palace, and others of less magnifi- 
cence, with their vast halls, their marble staircases, 
vestibules, and terraces, and the aspect of splendor 
and munificence they wear, have given this com- 
mercial city the title of Genoa the Superb. And, as 
if to humble her pride, some envious rival among the 
Italian cities has launched at her a biting sarcasm in 
the well-known proverb, ' Mare senza pesce, uomini 
senza fede, e donne senza vergogna^ — ' A sea without 
fish, men without faith, and women without shame ! ' " 

The tarry at Genoa was not long; and the little 
party went next to Lucca, thence to Pisa, and finally 
to Florence, where they took lodgings, and lingered 
for a few days. I quote, — 

" From Florence to Rome I travelled with a vettu- 
rino, by the way of Siena. We were six days upon 
the road, and, like Peter Rugg in the story-book, 
were followed constantly by clouds and rain. At 
times the sun, not all-forgetful of the world, peeped 
from beneath his cowl of mist, and kissed the swarthy 
face of his beloved land, and then, like an anchor- 
ite, withdrew again from earth, and gave himself to 
heaven. Day after day the mist and the rain were my 
fellow-travellers ; and as I sat wrapped in the thick 
folds of my Spanish cloak, and looked out upon the 
misty landscape and the leaden sky, I was continu- 
ally saying to myself, ' Can this be Italy ? ' and smil- 
ing at the untravelled credulity of those, who, amid 
the storms of a northern winter, give wa}^ to the 
illusions of fancy, and dream of Italy as a sunny 
land, where no wintry tempest beats, and where, 
even in January, the pale invalid may go about 



158 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

without his umbrella or his India-rubber walk-in- 
the-waters. 

" Notwithstanding all this, with the help of a good 
constitution and a thick pair of boots, I contrived 
to see all that was to be seen upon the road. I 
walked down the long hillside at San Lorenzo, and 
along the border of the Lake of Bolsena, which, 
veiled in the driving mist, stretched, like an inland 
sea, beyond my ken ; and through the sacred forest 
of oak, held in superstitious reverence by the peas- 
ant, and inviolate from his axe. I passed a night at 
Montefiascone, renowned for a delicate Muscat wine, 
which bears the name of Est, and made a midnight 
pilgrimage to the tomb of the Bishop John Defou- 
cris, who died a martyr to his love of this wine of 
Montefiascone. 

" ' Propter nimium Est, Est, Est, 
Dominus mens mortuus est.' 

A marble slab in the pavement, worn by the foot- 
steps of pilgrims like myself, covers the dominie's 
ashes. There is a rude figure carved upon it, at 
whose feet I traced out the cabalistic words, 'Est, 
Est, Est.' The remainder of the inscription was 
illegible by the flickering light of the sexton's lan- 
tern. 

" At Baccano, I first caught sight of the dome of 
Saint Peter's. We had entered the desolate Cam- 
pagna ; we passed the tomb of Nero ; we approached 
the Eternal City; but no sound of active life, no 
thronging crowds, no hum of busy men, announced 
that we were near the gates of Rome. All was 
silence, solitude, and desolation." 



Longfellow's first visit to Europe. 159 

But I have not space to give all the details of 
the various Italian journeys which were made in 
the course of the year 1828. Of one alone it is 
necessary to speak, however, on account of the later 
interest attached to it. In the month of April, 
Longfellow and Greene found themselves together at 
NajDles. What they were doing is shown by the fol- 
lowing letter, written by Greene, and dated April 3, 
1867. 

' ' My dear Longfellow, — Thirty-uiue years ago this 
month of April, you aud I were together at Naples, wan- 
dering up aud down amid the wonders of that historical 
city, and, consciously in some things and unconsciously 
in others, laying up those precious associations which are 
youth's best preparation for age. We were young then, 
with Ufe all before us ; and, in the midst of the records 
of a great past, our thoughts would still turn to our owu 
future. Yet, eveu in looking forward, they caught the 
coloring of that past, making things bright to our eyes, 
which, from a purely American point of view, would have 
worn a different aspect. From then till now the spell of 
those days has been upon us. 

"One day — I shall never forget it — we returned at 
sunset from a long afternoon amid the statues and I'elics 
of the Museo Borbonico. Evening was coming on with 
a sweet promise of the stars ; and our minds aud hearts 
were so full that we could not think of shutting ourselves 
up in our rooms, or of mingling with the crowd on the 
Toledo. We wanted to be alone, and yet to feel that 
there was life all around us. We went up to the flat roof 
of the house, where, as we walked, we could look down 
into the crowded street, and out upon the wonderful bay, 
and across the bay to Ischia and Capri and Sorrento, and 



160 HENRY WADSVVOKTH LONGFELLOW. 

over the housetops and villas and vineyards to Vesuvius. 
The ominous pillar of smoke hung suspended above the 
fatal mountain, reminding us of Pliny, its first and noble 
victim. A golden vapor crowned tlie bold promontory of 
Sorrento, and we thought of Tasso. Capri was calmly 
sleeping, like a sea-bird upon the waters ; and we seemed 
to hear the voice of Tacitus from across the gulf of eigh- 
teen centuries, telling us that the historian's pen is still 
powerful to absolve or condemn long after the imperial 
sceptre has fallen from the withered hand. There, too, 
lay the native island of him whose daring mind conceived 
the fearful vengeance of the Sicilian Vespers. We did 
not yet know Nicolini, but his grand verses had already 
begun the work of regeneration in the Italian heart. Vir- 
gil's tomb was not far off. The spot consecrated by San- 
nazzaro's ashes was near us ; and over all, with a thrill 
like that of solemn music, fell the splendor of the Italian 
sunset. 

" We talked and mused by turns, till the twilight deep- 
ened, and the stars came forth to mingle their mysterious 
influence with the overmastering magic of the scene. It 
was then that you unfolded to me your plans of life, and 
showed me from what ' deep cisterns ' you had already 
learned to draw. From that day the oflfice of literature 
took a new place in my thoughts. I felt its forming 
power as I had never felt it before, and began to look 
with a calm resignation upon its trials, and with true 
appreciation upon its reward. Thenceforth, little as I 
have done of what I wished to do, literature has been the 
inspiration, the guide, and the comfort, of my life. And 
now, in giving to the world the first, perhaps the only, work 
for which I dare hope a life beyond my own, the memory 
of those days comes back to me, and tells me, that, loving 
me still in the fulness of your fame as you loved me in 



Longfellow's first visit to europe. 161 

the hour of aspiration, you will not be unwilling to see 
your name united with mine upon these pages, which, but 
for your counsel and your sympathy, would never have 
been written." ^ 

In midsummer Longfellow was again in Rome. 
His lodgings were in a private house in the Piazza 
Navona, the very heart of the city. Of his manner 
of life here he Avrites, — 

" M}^ mornings are spent in visiting the wonders 
of Rome, in studying the miracles of ancient and 
modern art, or in reading at the public libraries. 
We breakfast at noon, and dine at eight in the even- 
ing. After dinner comes the conversazione^ enli- 
vened with music, and the meeting of travellers, 
artists, and literary men from every quarter of the 
globe. At midnight, when the crowd is gone, I re- 
tire to my chamber, and, poring over the gloomy 
pages of Dante or ' Bandello's Laughing Tale,' pro- 
tract my nightly vigil till the morning star is in the 
sky. 

" Our windows look out upon the square, which 
circumstance is a source of infinite enjoyment to 
me. Directly in front, with its fantastic belfries and 
swelling dome, rises the church of St. Agnes ; and, 
sitting by the open window, I note the busy scene 
below, enjoy the cool air of morning and evening, 
and even feel the freshness of the fountain, as its 
waters leap in mimic cascades down the sides of the 
rock." 

The month of September was spent at the vil- 

1 Dedication, in the Life of Natliauael Greene. 



162 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

lage of La Riccia, which stands upon the western 
declivity of the Albanian Hills, looking towards 
Rome. "My daily occupations in this delightful 
spot," writes Longfellow again, " were such as an idle 
man usually whiles away his time withal in such a 
rural residence. I read Italian poetry, strolled in 
the Chigi Park, rambled about the wooded environs 
of the village, took an airing on a jackass, threw 
stones into the Alban Lake, and, being seized at 
intervals with the artist-mania, that came upon me 
like an intermittent fever, sketched — or thought I 
did — the trunk of a hollow tree, or the spire of a 
distant church, or a fountain in the shade." ^ 

At the close of autumn, Longfellow left Rome 
for Venice, " crossing the Apennines by the wild 
gorge of the Strettura, in a drenching rain." From 
Venice he went to Trieste, and thence to Vienna. 
From Vienna he passed northward, visiting Prague, 
Dresden, and Leipsic ; and then, for a few months, 
he settled himself down in the scholastic shades of 
Giittingen. . Having completed a course of stud}^ at 
the university, he passed on to Frankfort-on-the- 
Main ; thence to Mayence, where he took steamer 
down the Rhine. The rest of his wanderings lay 
through the sands of Holland, and thence, by way 
of England, home. 

1 From Outre-Mer, edition 1835. 



LONGFELLOW'S FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 163 



CHAPTER VI. 

LONGFELLOW A PROFESSOR IN BOWDOIN COLLEGE. 

(7829-7835.) 

MR. LONGFELLOW began his instruction in 
Bowdoin College in the month of September, 
1829. He was then a young man of twenty-two, 
with a reputation already won by his " April Day " 
and his " Woods in Winter," poems which had not 
only been extensively copied by the newspapers, 
but had also found a place in several of the school- 
readers in use at that time. He was, moreover, fully 
equipped for his new position ; for, to the attainments 
afforded by a college education, he added the rich 
experiences of a long residence abroad. 

" My recollections of Professor Longfellow," writes 
one of the members of the class of 1830, "are as 
fresh as though it was but yesterday that I saw him 
come into the classroom for the first time. He was, 
of course, the youngest member of the faculty ; but 
he certainly commanded as much respect as did any 
of the older teachers. His manner was invariably 
gentle, and full of that charming courtesy which it 
never lacked throughout his whole life. At the 
same time, he never forgot his position ; he ever 
manifested a consciousness that he himself was the 



164 HENP.Y WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

insti'uctoi', and we the instructed ; he the man at 
the wheel, we the ones to show respect and confi- 
dence. He was always on the alert, quick to hear, 
and ready to respond. We were fond of him from 
the start : his speech charmed us ; his earnest and 
dignified demeanor inspired us ; and his erect, manly 
form excited our admiration. A better teacher, a 
kindlier heart, a more sympathetic friend, never ad- 
dressed a class of young men. If he had not won 
renown as the most beloved of American poets, he 
could not have failed to become famous as an Ameri- 
can teacher. When I recall how anxious he ever 
was for our progress, how hard he worked to push 
us along, I cannot refrain from quoting one of his 
own stanzas, — the one which, to my mind, so beauti- 
fully expresses the motive by which he was always 
governed in his capacity as an instructor : — 

" ' Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, 
Is our destined end or way ; 
But to act, that each to-morrow 
Find us farther than to-day.' " 

A similar tribute of respect is paid by another 
graduate of Bowdoin, President Hamlin of Middle- 
bury College. ''When I entered Bowdoin College 
in 1830," he writes, " Professor Longfellow had occu- 
pied the chair but one year. Our class numbered 
fifty-two, the largest freshman class that had, up to 
that time, entered college ; and many of its members 
were attracted by Longfellow's reputation. His in- 
tercourse with the students was perfectly simple, 
frank, and gentlemanly. He neither flattered nor 




0\ Qa/^/w^ V\( 




-aAAjj\o, 



At the Age of Twenty- Five, 



A PROFESSOR IN IJOWDOIN COLLEGE. 165 

repelled: he neither sought popularity nor avoided 
it. He was a close and ardent student in all Spanish 
and French literature. He had no time to fritter 
away. But he always and evidently enjoyed having 
students come to him with any reasonable question 
about languages, authors, literature, medit3eval or 
modern history, more especially the former. They 
always left him, not only with admiration, but guided 
and helped and inspired." 

Longfellow was not only beloved by the students, 
but he was also highly esteemed by all his associates 
in the facidty. Only one of that famous body still 
lives, the venerable Rev. Dr. Packard. It is his tes- 
timony that Longfellow " assumed the duties of the 
office, which he faithfully and successfully performed 
until, with the regret and disappointment of his col- 
leagues and the authorities of the college, he accepted 
a similar position at Harvard." 

The same authority states further that, "Long- 
fellow approved himself a teacher who never wearied 
of his work. He won by his gentle grace, and com- 
manded respect by his self-respect, and his respect 
for his office, never allowing an infringement of the 
decorum of the recitation-room." 

As we have already seen, the department of modern 
languages and literature was a new one in the college ; 
and, after the various steps at organization had been 
taken, it next became necessary to provide for the 
text-books. This responsibility devolved upon the 
young professor ; and how well he acquitted himself, 
it will soon appear. 

One of his first acts, as a professor, was to supply 



166 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

the deficiency existing of a suitable text-book on 
the study of the French language. He surveyed the 
field thoroughly, examined carefully such books as 
had already been published, and decided at length to 
translate and edit a work by a foreign author, rather 
than to prepare an original work. Charles Fran9ois 
L'Homond, a professor in the University of Paris, 
was the author of a small elementary grammar, 
which had found favor on the continent of Europe, 
and of which several copies had found their way to. 
this country, where they were in use among private 
instructors. The work had never, however, been 
translated. Longfellow undertook the task of pre- 
paring an English version of the work, and of adding 
such notes and illustrations as were deemed necessary 
for American schools and colleges. It was completed 
and published in the year 1830, and was at once 
adopted as a text-book, not only in Bowdoin College, 
but also in many other institutions of learning, both 
public and private. The book passed rapidly through 
many editions, and for a long time was regarded by 
teachers as the best French grammar in use in Amer- 
ica. It was not completely superseded until twenty 
years after the period of its first publication.^ 

1 The full title is as follows: Elements of French Grammar. 
By M. L'Homond, Professeur-Ere'mite in the University of Paris. 
Translated from the French, with Notes and such Illustrations as 
were thought necessary for the American Pupil. For the use of 
Schools, By an Instructor. Samuel Colman: Portland. Griffin's 
Press: Brunswick. 18.30. [12mo. pp. 108.] 

In the same year Professor Longfellow prepared for the use of 
his classes two other works : — 

1. Manuel de Proverbes Dramatiques. Portland : S. Colman. 
1830. 



A PROFESSOU IN liOWDOIN COLLEGE. 167 

In April, 1831, appeared Professor Longfellow's 
first contribution to " The North American Review." 
It was entitled the " Origin and Progress of the 
French Language," and extended over forty pages 
of the periodical. After the usual custom, it bore no 
signature. In this article, which is characterized by 
a high degree of scholarship and accuracy of interpre- 
tation, the author began at the beginning. 

"It is our intention," he stated, "in the present 
article to give our readers some account of the origin 
and progress of the French language, — ' a tongue 
most dear unto thee,' as the ecclesiastical historian, 
Howell, says, 'if thou beest not a pedant, a mere 
Englishman, art a traveller, and hast any thing in 
thee of good breeding.' The works, whose titles stand 
at the head of this article, are the sources from which 
we shall draw most of our facts and illustrations in 
reference to the subject before us ; ^ and, in order to 
execute our task the more efficiently, we shall com- 
mence with the earliest existing monuments of the 
ancient Romance, or Roman Rustic language, and, by 
reference to literary documents of successive periods, 
trace the progress and improvement of the French 
down to the close of the sixteenth century, when, to 

2. Montgomery, Jorge [Washington]. Novelas Espanolas. 
El Serrano de las Alpujarras; y El Cuadro Misterioso. 
[Brunswick: Griffin. 18;'.0.] 
1 The following were the sources named at the head of the arti- 
cle: — 

1. Choix des Poesies orir/inales des Troubadours. Par M. Kay- 
nouard. 

2. Second Me'moire sur Vorigine et les Revolutions de la Langue 
Fraw;oise. Par M. Duclos. 

3. Les Poetes Franqois depuis le XII. siecle jusqu' a Malherbe. 



168 HENRY WADSWOliTH LONGFELLOW. 

use the quaint phraseology of an okl writer, it had 
become gente^ propice, suffisante assez et du tout elegante 
pour exprimer de bonne foy tout ce que Vou sgauroit 
exeogiter, soit en amours ou autrement." 

The author then proceeds to trace the origin of 
the French language from the corrupted union of the 
Latin with the northern dialects of Gaul ; then speaks 
of the Roman Rustic^ and cites a specimen of it as 
it was spoken in France during the first half of the 
ninth century ; also specimens of the religious poems 
and other devotional writings of the Waldensians. 
He next gives extracts from the poesy of the Trou- 
badours, and lays down the assertion that, "the 
difference between the Waldensian and the Proven- 
gal is very trifling, and confined almost entirely to 
the terminations of words." He now proceeds to 
show how the Roman Wallon ' dialect was developed 
in the provinces north of the Loire ; how that in the 
tenth century it became the court-language of William 
Longue-Epee, Duke of Normandy, and, at the reign 
of William the Conqueror, it was called French. At 
the close of the eleventh century, it ceased to be 
called the Roman Wallon. The remainder of the 
article deals with the progress of the French lan- 
guage through the thirteenth century, on through 
the fourteenth, — the age of Froissart and the famous 
Oliver Basselin ; on through the fifteenth, when " the 
mists of antique phrase begin to roll away, and we no 
longer grope along in the obscurity of a barbarous 
dialect," — the era of Charles d'Orl^ans, father of 
Louis XH. ; and, finally, on through the sixteenth 
century, and through the reign of Francis I., sur- 



A VKOFKSSOn IN ROWDOIN COLLK(JE. 169 

named the Father of Letters. Numerous extracts in 
the original and translations (I think there is not 
one by the author) are scattered about in the article, 
which closes as follows : — 

" But enough. We have thus taken a rapid, and 
in some respects a superficial, view of the origin and 
progress of the French language. We have pur- 
posely confined ourselves to the general outline of 
the subject, rather than to seeking derivations and 
tracing out analogies. When Manage published his 
learned and critical work upon this subject, it was 
said of him, ' Manage is the most troublesome man 
in the world • he cannot let a single word go with- 
out a passport ; he must know whence it comes, the 
road it has pursued, and whither it is going.' We 
have no fears of falling under an imputation of such 
rigid scrutiny. The increasing attention paid to the 
study of the French throughout this section of our 
country, and its importance as a branch of element- 
ary and liberal education, sufficiently warrant us to 
devote a few pages of our journal to this subject; 
and, in so doing, we have dealt largely in extracts 
and illustrations, and have avoided trespassing on 
the precincts of etymology, in order to give the sub- 
ject a more agreeable aspect in the eyes of our 
readers." 

In July, 1831, Joseph T. Buckingham began the 
publication in Boston of " The New-England Maga- 
zine." Each number comprised ninety-six pages, 
was issued once a month, and on the whole was, of 
the kind, one of the best periodicals ever printed in 
this country. It was published and conducted by 



170 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Mr. Buckingham and his son until the son's death in 
1833, and after that by the father alone, who was for 
a time a fair representative of Boston culture. In 
1835 it became " The American Monthly Magazine," 
and the office of publication was transferred to New 
York. 

Many persons contributed to the pages of " The 
New-England Magazine," whose names have since 
become prominent in American literature. To say 
nothing of those whose work has passed into ob- 
livion, simply because it was the work of aspirants 
who never came to fame, one may read in the 
magazine articles, sketches, and poems by Edward 
Everett, George S. Hillard, Joseph Story, Epes Sar- 
gent, Dr. S. G. Howe, Richard Hildreth, Dr. Pea- 
body, Dr. Withington, Oliver Wendell Holmes, and 
Professor Longfellow. But few of the articles, how- 
ever, are signed ; and, as might be expected, the 
golden compensation allowed for them was exceed- 
ingly small. ^ 

So far as I am aware. Professor Longfellow's con- 
tributions to the magazine are confined to a series of 
sketches, which he published at irregular intervals, 
under the name or title of " The Schoolmaster." 
These sketches interest us from their relation to 

1 It is interesting, as a bit of literary history, to find that Dr. 
Holmes published a trial chapter of The Autocrat of the Breakfast- 
Table ill The New-England Magazine; but so completely had the 
title disappeared, that but few remembered it when he resumed it 
twenty-five years afterwards in the early numbers of The Atlantic 
Monthly. Many of his best poems also appeared in these images; 
and a curious experiment headed Report of the Editorial Dejiart- 
ment, and signed " O. W. H.," will be found in the number for 
January, IS'!:!. 



A PROFESSOR IN BOWDOIN COLLEGE. 171 

work which he produced later, and which he pub- 
licly acknowledged. The first instalment of " The 
Schoolmaster" appeared in the number for July, 
1831, — the initial number of the magazine. The 
following motto from Franklin stands at the head of 
the chapter : — 

"My character, indeed, I would favor you with, 
but that I am cautious of praising myself, lest I 
should be told my trumpeter's dead ; and I cannot 
find in my heart at present to say any thing to my 
own disadvantage." 

The chapter is Avritten in the first person, and 
opens as follows : — 

" I am a schoolmaster in the little village of 
Sharon. A son of New England, I have been edu- 
cated in all her feelings and prejudices. To her 
maternal care I owe the little that is good within 
me ; and upon her bosom I hope to repose hereafter 
when my worldly task is done, and my soul, like a 
rejoicing schoolboy, shall close its weary book, and 
burst forth from this earthly schoolhouse. My 
childhood was passed at my native village, in the 
usual amusements and occupations of that age ; but, 
as I grew up, I became satiated with the monotony 
of my life. A restless spirit prompted me to visit 
foreign countries. I said, with the cosmopolite, ' the 
world is a kind of book in which he who has seen 
his own country only has read but one page.' 
Guided by this feeling, I became a traveller. I have 
traversed France on foot, smoked my pipe in a Flem- 
ish inn " — 

These words now become familiar to the reader. 



172 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

for he at once recognizes in them the passage in the 
chapter entitled " The Pilgrim of Outre-Mer." " The 
Schoolmaster," however, soon recovers its own sepa- 
rate character ; and, for several pages, one reads of 
the return of the narrator to his native village, and 
thenceforth of his travels by memory. 

The second chapter of " The Schoolmaster " ap- 
peared in the number for September, 1831, and is 
substantially the same as " The Norman Diligence " 
in " Outre-Mer." In the last-named work, the author 
simply mentions the cabaret ; but in " The School- 
master" he sketches it fully, and introduces a ver- 
sion of an old French song of the fifteenth century.^ 

The third chapter of " The Schoolmaster " was 
published in April, 1832. It is entitled " The Vil- 
lage of Auteuil," and is very much the same chapter 
as in " Outre-Mer." It is worthy of note that Dr. 
Dardonville in "The Schoolmaster" becomes Dent- 
delion in " Outre-Mer," and that some new matter is 
introduced into the last-named work. 

In July, 1832, the fourth instalment, entitled 
" Recollections of the Metropolis," was printed ; and 
this was followed by the fifth chapter, continuing 
the subject, in the number for October of the same 
year. The fourth chapter gives the details of a stroll 
in Paris, and the fifth continues the walk and intro- 
duces a romantic story. Both are omitted in " Outre- 
Mer." The sixth chapter, published in Februar}-, 
1833, resumes the walk, interrupted by the story, 

1 Longfellow, in The Poets and Poetry of Europe, prints Oliver 
Basselin's modernized version of tlie same song as translated liy 
Oxenford, but, strangely enough, says nothing of his own earlier 
rendering, which is as good if not better. 



A PROFESSOR IN iJOWDOlN COLLEGE. 173 

and brings the reader finally to the gates of tlie 
cemetery of Pere-la-Chaise. At this point the serial 
comes suddenly to an end, and for this reason : the 
publication of the first part of " Outre-Mer," con- 
taining, as we now know, much of the material used 
in the first three chapters of " The Schoolmaster," 
has been commenced. The last three chapters of 
" The Schoolmaster " were never reprinted. 

On Sept. 14, 1831, Professor Longfellow was 
united in marriage to Mary Storer Potter of Port- 
land. She was the daughter of the Hon. Barrett 
Potter — a judge of the probate court — and Anne 
Storer Potter. The judge was well known, and 
was generally regarded as a man of strong character, 
great severity of manners, and of marked positive- 
ness in all his opinions. In regard to educational 
matters he cherished most decided views. He was 
an old-fashioned classical scholar himself, and ar- 
dently believed that boys should be nurtured upon 
Greek and Latin at the earliest moment, but that 
girls should be taught nothing of these languages. 
For them he thought the modern languages, modern 
literature, and natural science more suitable. His 
daughter Mary had a strong taste for all modern 
languages, and for mathematics as well. Her note- 
books, which are still preserved by her family, " give 
ample and accurate reports, recorded as being from 
memory, of a series of astronomical lectures ; and 
she learned to calculate eclipses, which must have 
been quite beyond the average attainments of young 
girls of her day." Before her marriage, Miss Potter 
was for several years a pupil of the excellent school 



174 HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

of Miss Gushing, at Hingham, Mass. ; and it is re- 
ported that "all her school-papers, abstracts, and 
compositions show a thoughtfid and well-trained 
mind. Some exhibit a metaphysical turn ; others 
are girlish studies in history and geography ; but 
the love of literature is visible everywhere, in co- 
pious extracts from the favorite authors of that day, 
— Cowper, Young, Mrs. Hemans, Bernard Barton^ 
and even Coleridge and Shelley." 

Of Mrs. Longfellow's personal appearance, and 
qualities of mind, all who remember her speak with 
one voice. The characterization of one who knew 
her intimately and as a dear friend agrees with that 
of every one whom I have consulted. " She was a 
lovely woman," writes this friend, " in character and 
appearance. Gentle, refined, and graceful, with an 
attractive manner which won all hearts. The few 
first years of her married life were spent here 
(Brunswick) ; and, as Professor Longfellow took a 
house in this neighborhood, we were on most inti- 
mate terms." ^ 

As signified in the foregoing quotation, Professor 
Longfellow, after his marriage, took his fair bride 
to Brunswick, where, in a simple, vine-covered cot- 
tage, he founded a home of taste, refinement, and 
graceful hospitality. It was here, in that beautiful 
New-England town, with the river Androscoggin 
" on its way " to the sea at one end of the wide 
village-street, and at the other the pine-groves in 
which the college buildings stood secluded, that 

1 Letter of Miss Emeline "Weld of Brunswick, Me., addressed 
to the author. 



A PROFESSOli IN BOWDOIN COLLEGE. 175 

Longfellow walked out of his youth hito manhood, 
and " love's young dream " moved his inmost being. 

Just across the fields, in those days, from the 
academic groves, stood a large square white house, 
with four square rooms on each of the two stories, 
and a hallwa}^ running through from west to east. 
It was a type of house familiar to the last genera- 
tion, but now gradually disappearing. This was the 
home of Professor Cleaveland, whom Longfellow 
loved as a father, and with whom, when other duties 
failed to call him elsewhere, he and Mrs. Longfellow 
were wont to pass many a quiet evening. Longfel- 
low still played upon the flute, as in his student- 
days ; and within the hospitable mansion of the 
older professor stood — and still stands — the piano, 
or " harpsichord," that accompanied the poet when 
he spoke with " music's golden tongue." ^ 

It is pleasant to reflect upon these early years of 
the poet's life, which opened so happily and promised 
so miich. The nuptial event of 1831 had a marked 
influence on the development of his genius ; it gave 
him new ideas and new thoughts : and then came 
the sorrowful sequel, which served to blend all these 
thoughts and ideas into one tone of sweetness, not 
the voice of regret, but of patient resignation, ap- 

1 Mr. H. P. Chandler's recollections. When Longfellow revisited 
Brunswick in 1875, he was the guest of the only surviving daughter 
of Professor Cleaveland. Soon after his return to Cambridge, he 
sent her the beautiful poem beginning, — 

" Among the many lives that I have known," etc., 

which I have reproduced entire in an earlier chapter. In the en- 
trance-hall to the Cleaveland Cabinet at Bowdoin, this poem iu 
manuscript is framed with a portrait of Professor Cleaveland. 



176 HBNKY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

pealing as it ever must to the sympathies of the 
human heart. 

In 1832 was published a " Syllabus de la Gram- 
maire italienne. Par H. W. Longfellow, professeur 
de langues modernes a Bowdoin-College." The pref- 
ace to the work, written by Professor Longfellow, is 
somewhat curious, and reads as follows : — 

" J'ai prepare cet Abreg^ de la Grammaire itali- 
enne, non pour instruire ceux qui auraient a parler 
cette langue, mais pour faciliter les progres de ceux, 
qui voudront I'apprendre a lire. Leur atteindre ce 
but, il sufifit d'en avoir expose succinctement les 
principes. II serait superflu de les developper dans 
toute leur etendue. 

" J'ai employe I'accent aigu sur presque tous les 
mots italiens, pour marquer les syllabes sur les- 
quelles il faut appuyer la voix dans la prononcia- 
tion ; mais il faut observer que les Italiens ne s'en 
servent que tres rarement. On trouvera les regies 
pour I'usage de I'accent aigu dans le traits de 
I'orthographe ; voyez Chapitre VIIL, p. 104." ^ 

The work is exceedingly elementary, though the 
forms and principles of the language are stated 

1 Full title: Syllabus de la Grammaire italienne. Par H. W. 
Longfellow, professeur de langues modernes a Bowdoin-College. 
A I'usage de ceux qui possedent la langue fran^aise. Boston : 
Gray et Bowen, mdcccxxxii. [12 mo. pp. 102.] 

To the same year belong the following, both of them prepared 
by Professor Longfellow : — 

1. Cours de Langue Francaise. [Boston: is;i2.] 

1. Le Ministre de Wakefield. 

2. Proverbes DraTnatiques. 

2. Saggi de' Novellieri Italiani d'ogni Secolo: tratti da' piu 

celebri Scrittori, con brevi Notizie intorno alia Vita di 
ciascheduno. [Boston: 1832.] 



A PROFESSOR IN BOWDOIN COLLEGE. 177 

clearly and succinctly. To such persons as already 
possessed a reading familiarity with the French 
tongue, the book must have proved serviceable. 
The plan of the work is excellent ; and the wonder 
is, that the same plan has not been carried out more 
extensively at the present time. Such a book for 
English-speaking students serves a double purpose, 

— it keeps fresh the knowledge of one language 
while teaching the elements of another. The meth- 
od is certainly plausible and advantageous. 

In 1832, in the January number of " The North 
American Review," Professor Longfellow published 
another article, covering thirty-two pages, choosing, 
as his theme, " The Defence of Poetry." The arti- 
cle was suggested by the republication of Sir Philip 
Sidney's " The Defence of Poesie," ^ and was not so 
much a critical review of that work as a chapter of 
fresh and original thoughts on the state of English 
poetry in general. As might be expected, the writer 
expresses hmiself earnestly and forcibly. " We 
hope," he exclaims, " that Sir Philip Sidney's ' De- 
fence ' will be widely read and long remembered ! 
Oh that in our country it might be the harbinger of 
as bright an intellectual day as it was in his own ! 
With us the spirit of the age is clamorous for utility, 

— for visible, tangible utility, — for bare, brawny, 
muscular utility. We would be roused to action by 
the voice of the populace and the sounds of the 
crowded mart, and not 'lulled asleep in shady idle- 
ness with poet's pastimes.' We are swallowed up 

1 Republished in the Library of the Old English Prose Writers, 
as Vol. IL Cambridge : Hilliard aud Browu. ISol. 



178 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

in schemes for gain, and engrossed with contrivances 
for bodily enjoyments, as if this particle of dust were 
immortal, — as if the soul needed no aliment, and 
the mind no raiment." 

In the course of this very instructive and highly 
interesting article, so interesting, in fact, that one 
could wish it might be reprinted in a form more 
accessible to the general reader, occurs the follow- 
ing : — 

"We wish our native poets would give a more 
national character to their writings. In order to 
effect this, they have only to write more naturally, 
to write from their own feelings and impressions, 
from the influence of what they see around them, 
and not from any preconceived notions of what 
poetry ought to be, caught by reading many books, 
and imitating many models. This is peculiarly true 
in descriptions of natural scenery. In these let us 
have no more sky-larks and nightingales. For us 
they only warble in books. A painter might as well 
introduce an elephant or a rhinoceros into a New- 
England landscape. We would not restrict our 
poets in the choice of their subjects, or the scenes of 
their story ; but when they sing under an American 
sky, and describe a native landscape, let the descrip- 
tion be graphic, as if it had been seen and not ima- 
gined." 

The article concludes in the following manner : — 

" We have set forth the portrait of modern poetry 
in rather gloomy colors ; for we really think, that 
the greater part of what is published in this book- 
writing age, ought, in justice, to suffer the fate of 



A PROFESSOR IN BOWDOIN COLLEGE. 179 

the cliildren of Thetis, whose immortality was tried 
by fire. We hope, however, that, ere long, some one 
of our most gifted bards will throw his fetter's off, 
and, relj'ing on himself alone, fathom the recesses of 
his own mind, and bring up rich pearls from the se- 
cret depths of thought." 

In the April number of " The Review," the same 
year, appeared Professor Longfellow's third contri- 
bution, entitled " Spanish Devotional and Moral 
Poetry." It covered nearly forty pages. The 
greater portion of the article was made up of original 
specimens, with translations of early Spanish poetry 
reaching from the thirteenth to the middle of the 
sixteenth century. This article was subsequently 
reprinted as an introduction to Longfellow's transla- 
tion of " Coplas de Manrique." 

The October number of " The Review," same year, 
contained an article on the " History of the Italian 
Language and Dialects," written by Professor Long- 
fellow. It filled nearly sixty pages of the periodical, 
and, in its plan and scope, followed the model of the 
previous article on the French language. The au- 
thor, however, treated his subject in a more exhaus- 
tive manner, and, I may add, with less interest to 
most readers. Were the editors of a magazine, not 
of a special character, to print such an article now- 
adays, it is to be feared that the journal would imme- 
diately forfeit its patronage. What was read and 
appreciated fifty years ago would hardly be looked 
at now, except by the very few whose tastes incline 
them to such themes. But I do not mean to assert 
that the article on the Italian language will not bear 
perusal. 



180 HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

The essay on the moral and devotional poetry of 
Spain first introduced to the public Longfellow's 
version of Don Jorge Manriqije's sublime ode on the 
death of his father. Both essay and ode were re- 
published in one volume in 1833.^ " Professor 
Longfellow's version," says Mr. Prescott, "is well 
calculated to give the English reader a correct no- 
tion of the Castilian bard, and, of course, a very 
exaggerated one of the literary culture of the age." 

" The North American Review " for April, 1833, 
contained an essay, covering nearly forty pages, on 
" Spanish Language and Literature." In this notice 
Professor Longfellow ably considers the three divis- 
ions of the old romance as spoken in Spain ; name- 
ly, the Castilian, the Lemosin, and the Gallego, or 
Galician. Each of the dialects is sketched clearly, 
but concisely : the most striking features in its his- 
tory are given, and numerous illustrations of its 
peculiarities are exhibited. The essay is not writ- 
ten for the professed scholar, but for intelligent 
readers generally. 

The publication of Thoms's collection of early 
prose romances, in three volumes, London, 1828, 
suggested to Professor Longfellow the writing of an 
article on " Old English Romances." It was printed 
in " The North American Review " for October, 
1833. The article is one of the most interesting of 
the author's contributions to periodical literature. 
The opening j)aragraph is here given : — 

1 Coplas de Don Jorge Manrique. Translated from the Spanish, 
M'ith an introductory essay on the moral and devotional poetry of 
Spain. Boston: 1833. 



A PROFESSOR IN BOWDOIN COLLEGE. .181 

" One of the most interesting and instructive 
walks of literature lies among the graves of the 
departed, — for tlie thoughts of man have their 
graves like man himself; and the reverend monitor, 
Time, for them likevv^ise tolls the passing-bell, and 
performs the sad obsequies. A vast library is a vast 
cemetery of mind, where, in a certain sense, lie 
buried the ideas of those who have gone before us. 
Each dusty tome is a neglected monument, whose 
epitaph is written in the title-page, and whose date 
not unfrequently records at once the birth and the 
death of its tenant. There the poet and the philoso- 
pher literally mingle their dust together, and the 
musty apostle of an obsolete creed lies side by side 
with the prurient ballad-singer. The learned prelate 
is a prey to the worm, and the wanton tale-bearer 
lisps his amorous conceits to the dull ear of oblivion. 
One might almost think that they had implored 
eternal peace, and that their pages' prayer had been 
answered ; for no one disturbs their repose, save 
now and then some Old Mortality who comes to 
meditate among the tombs, and to wipe away the 
mildew and gossamer which cover the inscriptions." 

The author then proceeds to comment more par- 
ticularly on the romances of " Robert the Devil," 
" Thomas of Reading," " The Famous Historic of 
Fryer Bacon," " The History of Fryer Rush," " Vir- 
gilius," " The Noble Birth and Gallant Achievements 
of that Remarkable Outlaw Robin Hood," " The His- 
tory of George A. Green," " Tom A. Lincolne," 
etc. 

In the summer of 1835 appeared " Outre-Mer ; a 



182 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Pilgrimage beyond the Sea," in two volumes.^ Two 
years before, its publication had been begun in num- 
bers, but not continued to any great length ; and, as 
I have already shown, portions of the work had been 
printed in the pages of " The New-England Maga- 
zine " under another title. In the book-notices of 
the September number, 1833, of " The New-England 
Magazine," I find a very pleasant critique of the first 
part of " Outre-Mer," which closed with a reflective 
article on the cemetery of Pere-la-Chaise. It says, — 

' ' It seems hardly worth while to keep in the public 
journals a secret which is known by all the world ; so we 
may as well say, that this little work is the production of 
Professor Longfellow of Bowdoin College, — a man of 
fine talents, an excellent scholar, and a poet withal. It 
is one of that sort of books \vhich are the delight of 
readers and the despau' of critics. Without any preten- 
sions to being a great work, without claiming to be very 
profound or very original, it is full of taste, good feeling, 
and unaffected elegance. It is the book of a man who 
has a fine eye for the beautiful, a genial sympathy for 
humanity, rich powers of description, and a disposition to 
look on the bright side of things. He reminds us a good 
deal of Washington Irving — not that we mean to insinu- 
ate that he is an imitator : for if ' ' The Sketch-Book ' ' had 
never been written, we have no doubt "Outre-Mer" 
would have been what it is ; but they resemble each other 
a good deal in the most striking characteristics of their 
minds. . . . The style is perfect : we could wish some- 
times, that it had more of careless vigor and less of fin- 

1 Outre-Mer: a Pilgrimage beyond the Sea. In two volumes. 
New York. Published by Harper & Brothers, 1835. [12mo, pp. 226, 
252.] 



A mOFESSOK IN BOWDOIN COLLEGE. 183 

ished elegance. We hope Professor Longfellow will 
contiuue it : we shall be always glad to hear from him." 

The reviewer prints several selections from " Outre- 
Mer," and writes as if totally ignorant of the fact 
that many of these qnotations had previouslj^ ap- 
peared in the pages of the magazine under the head- 
ing of " The Schoolmaster." It may be that this 
innocence is purely intentional, but I very much 
doubt it. 

In the October number, 1834, of "The North 
American Review," a writer thus speaks of the first 
two numbers of the serial publication : — 

" This work is obviously the production of a writer of 
talent and of cultivated taste, who has chosen to give to 
the public the results of his observation in foreign coun- 
tries in the form of a series of tales and sketches. It is 
a form, which, as every reader knows, has been recom- 
mended by the high example and success of Mr. Irving ; 
and, in recording only such circumstances as suit his 
fancy, an accomplished traveller is certainly more likely 
to preserve the proper measure of spirit and freshness, 
than when he enters on the task of preparing an elaborate 
and formal narrative. It must not be supposed, that, in 
adopting the form of Mr. Irving, the author has been 
guilty of any other imitation. They have both entered 
on the same field, in different directions, and without the 
least hazard of crossing each other's path ; and we are 
much inclined to wish that other writers, who possess the 
requisite leisure and accomplishments, would follow their 
example." 



184 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGITELLOW. 

In the foregoing selection, the writer ^ feigns igno- 
rance of the authorship of " Outre-Mer." Professor 
Longfellow had already contributed several impor- 
tant articles to the pages of " The North American 
Review," and was certainly not unknown in the lit- 
erary circle of the periodical. Furthermore, it was 
now pretty well known in Boston, that he was the 
author of " Outre-Mer ; " so that it is not easy to sup- 
pose that the critic's ignorance of the authorship was 
other than assumed on this special occasion- 
When the complete work was published in New 
York, the editor of " The New-England Magazine " 
again noticed it. I quote from this notice, which 
appeared in the number for July, 1835. 

"It is unnecessary to state to our readers that the 
author of these pleasing volumes is H. W. Lougfellow, 
recently appointed professor of modern languages and 
helles-lettres in Harvard University, and now abroad for 
the purpose of gathering materials to illustrate the de- 
partment of learning covered by his professorship. The 
writings of this gentleman show a rare union of the 
scholar and the poet. To a minute and laborious re- 
search, a well-arranged and copious fund of erudition, 
he adds a lively sense of the harmony of language, an 
artist-like power of delineation, and a ready humor, that 
peeps out ever and anon, and is always greeted with a 
hearty welcome." 

Farther on, the reviewer says, — 

"We thhik the readers of this work will welcome it as 
an agreeable and valuable addition to our literature. The 

1 Rev. O. W. B. Peabody. 



A PROFESSOR IN BOWDOIN COLLEGE. 185 

style is pure iiud polished : the language flows with ful- 
ness, beauty, and harmony. Many of the humorous 
sketches are drawn with a true and discriminating hand ; 
while the serious portions are written in a noble spirit, 
adorned by well-sustained eloquence. But there are some 
points of small importance in which the work is open to 
criticism. A few pet words and phrases have crept into 
our author's style, and established themselves without his 
knowing it, such as ' merry,' ' merrymake,' ' holiday-finery. ' 
Mr. Longfellow writes, too, sometimes in the character of 
an idler, who goes about with his eyes half shut, indulging 
in all sorts of day-dreams and vagaries. Now, every- 
body knows that Mr. Longfellow is the most wide-awake 
of mortal men, that he never idled away an hour in his 
life, and that, instead of wandering listlessly over the 
storied scenes of Europe, he contrived to gather an as- 
tonishing amount of information on all matters pertaining 
to literature, down to the provincial dialects of the various 
languages, of which he made himself thoroughly master. 
We should have been better pleased had our author writ- 
ten more in his own character ; though, it is true, he has 
Mr. Irving' s authority for falling into reveries whenever 
the humor takes him. Mr. Longfellow has a way of 
picking up some odd, tatterdemalion ne'er-do-well, and 
making a picture of him. He does this with a good de- 
gree of skill and graphic power ; nevertheless, people will 
be reminded of Mr. Irving again. But our author is no 
imitator ; only these coincidences in manner, once in a 
while, bring up the author of ' The Sketch-Book ' and 
' Bracebridge Hall.' A very few changes would have 
removed these traces of resemblance ; for they are traces^ 
and nothing more. But this picking flaws in beautiful 
works of poetry and imagination is an ungracious task, 
and we gladly bid it adieu." 



186 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW, 

Of the work itself I need add but little to what 
has already been said in this chapter. It is, confess- 
edly, not much more than a book of travels through 
France, Spain, Italy, Germany, and Holland ; though 
the last two countries named are barely noticed. 
Around his descriptions of scenery, and of the va- 
rious incidents which pleased his youthful fancy, the 
author throws a halo of imagination, — a sort of 
dreamy atmosphere which at times makes what is 
real seem quite the opposite. Poesy, art, romance, 
and life are beautifully intermingled ; and the gener- 
ous feeling and true philosophy evinced by the pil- 
grim of the Land beyond the Sea throw a mild, 
yet most attractive, coloring over all the objects 
.encountered, and all the scenes passed through. 
Whether we walk with him through the valle}^ of 
the Loire, take passage by night in the stage-coach 
from Paris to Bordeaux, or partake of the somewhat 
doubtful welcome of the inn of old Castile, we feel 
that we are in the company of a person of talent and 
of cultivated taste. "Outre-Mer" was Mr. Longfel- 
low's first venture in the field of belles-lettres : for- 
tunately it was not the last. With all its excellence 
and grace, it will bear no comparison with " The 
Sketch-Book," by which it is overshadowed; and, 
though it might have proved creditable to him, yet 
it could never have made a reputation for its author. 
The work possesses more than ordinary merit, how- 
ever, and will amply repay perusal. 



INVITED TO CAMBKIDGK. 187 



CHAPTER VII. 

INVITED TO CAMBRIDGE: REVISITS EUROPE. 

(1835, 1836.) 

IN the month of December, 1834, Professor Long- 
fellow received a letter from the corporation of 
Harvard College, informing him that George Ticknor 
had expressed a wish to retire from the professorship 
of modern languages and literature, and that the 
position was open to him, if he should choose to 
accept it. The offer was accompanied with permis- 
sion to spend a year or more abroad, if it should be 
deemed necessary. 

Longfellow was very much astounded at receiving 
such a proposal ; and, at first, he was prompted to 
decline it. The department which he had established 
at Bowdoin College was now beginning to show re- 
sults ; the renown of the teacher was attracting stu- 
dents from all parts of New England ; and the Board 
of Management was more than satisfied with what 
had already been accomplished, and was hopeful of 
the future. It was a sad moment when Professor 
Longfellow made known the call which he had re- 
ceived, and a still sadder one when he signified his 
determination to accept it. 

During his stay in Brunswick, Longfellow had 



188 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

formed many friendships ; and the thought of breaking- 
away from these troubled him sorely. He had also 
been made a member of the Maine Historical Society, 
and in 1834 was holding the office of librarian and 
cabinet-keeper. His work at the college was pros- 
pering, there was a perfect unanimity and harmony 
of feeling on all sides, and his domestic life Avas 
fraught with unalloyed happiness. But he concluded 
to make a change of scene, to choose a new field of 
labor. Who will say that it was not for the best ? 

There was living, at this time, in Portland, an inti- 
mate friend of Professor Longfellow's father, ^nd an 
able exponent of the law of admiralty, — Mr. Charles 
S. Daveis. It may here be noted that he was also a 
friend of Sumner's father, and later of the great sen- 
ator himself. To him, on the 5th of January, 1835, 
George Ticknor addressed the following interesting 
letter, which affords a clear notion of the duties and 
responsibilities of a Cambridge professorship. 

"My dear Charles, — Besides wishing you a 
Happy New-Year, I have a word to say about mj'-- 
self. I have substantially resigned my place at 
Cambridge, and Longfellow is substantially appointed 
to fill it. I say substantially, because he is to pass a 
year or more in Germany, and the North of Europe ; 
and I am to continue in the place till he returns, 
which will be in a year from next Commencement 
or thereabouts. This is an arrangement I have had 
at heart a good while, but could not well accomplish 
earlier, partly because my department, being a new 
one, was not brought, until lately, into a good condi- 
tion to leave ; and partly because I was unwilling to 



INVITED TO CAMBRIDGE. 189 

seem to give up the college during the troubles of 
the late Rebellion. 

" I have been an active professor these fifteen 
years ; and for thirteen 3^ears of the time I have been 
contending, against a constant opposition, to procure 
certain changes which should make the large means 
of the college more effectual for the education of 
the community. In my own department I have suc- 
ceeded entirely, but I can get these changes carried 
no farther. As long as I hoped to advance them, I 
continued attached to the college ; when I gave up all 
hope, I determined to resign, 

" The fact that I am to be free in a year makes 
me so already in spirit, and I look back upon my 
past course at the college almost entirely as matter 
of history. There is a good deal in it that gratifies 
me. During the fifteen years of my connection with 
it, as a teacher, more than half the instruction I ]iave 
given has been voluntary, neither required nor con- 
templated by my statutes. When the finances of 
the college became embarrassed seven years ago, I 
volunteered the resignation of four hundred dollars 
out of the stipulated salary of one thousand dollars, 
and have never received but six hundred dollars since. 
During the nine years a department of the modern lan- 
guages has existed, Avith four foreigners for teachers, 
who are generally more likely to have difficulties 
with the students than natives, no case whatsoever 
has been carried before the faculty ; and during the 
whole fifteen years I have never myself been absent 
from an exercise, or tardy at one. Moreover, within 
the limits of the department, I have entirely broken 



190 HENRY WADSWOP.TH LONGFELLOAY. 

"up the division of classes, established full}^ the prin- 
ciple and practice of progress according to proficiency, 
and introduced a system of voluntary study, which 
for several years has embraced from one hundred and 
forty to one hundred and sixty students ; so that we 
have relied hardly at all on college discipline, as it is 
called, but almost entirely on the good disposition of 
the young men, and their desire to learn. If, there- 
fore, the department of the modern languages is 
right, the rest of the college is wrong ; and, if the 
rest of the college is right, we ought to adopt its sys- 
tem, which I believe no person Avhatsoever has thought 
desirable for the last three or four years. . . . 

" In my whole connection with it, I feel as if I had 
been as much actuated by a sense of duty to improve 
the institution, and serve the community, as men in 
public places commonly are. So, I doubt not, are 
those who have the management of the college, and 
pursue the opposite course. I do not know that it 
could be in the hands of abler men, or men more 
disinterested ; certainly not of men for whom I have 
a greater regard or respect. We differ, however^ 
very largely, both as to what the college can be and 
what it ought to be. We therefore separate as men 
who go different roads, though proposing the same 
end, each persuaded the one he prefers is the best, 
the pleasantest, and the shortest." ^ 

"It was at the suggestion of Professor Ticknor 
that Longfellow received the invitation to come to 
Cambridge. In casting his eyes about him in search 
of a successor, the former had been attracted towards 

1 Life, Letters, and Journals of George Ti(;knor. Vol. i. p. 399. 



INVITED TO CAMBRIDGE. 191 

the promising incumbent at Bowdoin College by the 
able articles on the study of languages which the 
latter had contributed to the pages of " The North 
American Review." Nothing of the sort had hitherto 
graced American literature ; for the reason, perhaps, 
that there was no one to write them. The study of 
the languages and literatures of Greece and Rome 
at that time was accounted of paramount value; 
while that of the modern languages and literatures 
was adjudged to be more a means of amusing one's 
self, or a sort of accomplishment, rather than any ab- 
solute necessity. Indeed, perhaps I do not overstate 
the matter by saying that modern European nations, 
outside of England, were not generally supposed to 
have any literatures worthy of study. Longfellow 
never did a better service to his countrymen than 
when he ventured to write and to publish, in the 
ablest but most conservative of American periodicals, 
his scholarly and suggestive papers on the languages 
of Germany, Spain, France, and Italy : by so doing 
he scattered seed, that, falling into good ground, was 
destined to bear abundant fruits. His articles not 
only stimulated further investigation and study, and 
led to the organization of departments of the modern 
languages in other educational institutions, but they 
also proved to be the means of establishing him in 
a new field of work, of associating him with the old- 
est and best of American colleges, which, while re- 
flecting honor upon himself, was alike honored by 
his renowned presence. 

Illness in the family of Professor Ticknor compelled 
the latter to give up his position much sooner than 



192 HENllY WADSWOKTH LONGFELLOW. 

he anticipated. Instead of occupying the chair until 
the return of his successor from Europe, he resigned 
it in May, 1835. In November, 1836, Longfellow was 
formally appointed "• Smith professor of the French 
and Spanish languages and literature, and professor 
of belles-lettres.'^ 

Before his departure for Europe, in the spring of 
1835, Longfellow arranged with Harper and Brothers 
of New- York City for the publication of his " Outre- 
Mer " in book-form. In consideration of the pay- 
ment of five hundred dollars, he transferred all his 
rights and title in the work to his publishers. Dur- 
ing his absence from the country, the work was issued 
in two volumes, as I have already stated in the pre- 
vious chapter. 

Longfellow's object in revisiting Europe was study, 
and not pleasure. To thoroughly prepare himself 
for his new station was his highest ambition. His 
young wife went with him, however ; and, for a few 
months at least, she was the companion of his earnest 
toil. 

He went first to England, where he spent some 
time in a survey of the country. Early in the sum- 
mer he repaired to Denmark and Sweden, and in 
the latter country he settled himself down for stud3^ 
Some of the annotations in the collected edition of 
his poems, as well as one or two articles which he 
published in " The North American Review," attest 
to his diligence and research in the Scandinavian 
lands. 

Late in the autumn he journeyed down into Hol- 
land, and intended to spend a few weeks at Rotter- 



INVITED TO CAMBRIDGE. 193 

dam. But here a sad event took place, which has 
invested that old cit^^ with a sacredness which will 
never fade. In the bloom of her womanhood, Mrs. 
Longfellow died, on the 29th of November, 1835, 
from un illness contracted immediately after a con- 
finement. Both mother and child vanished " as the 
dews of the early morning," leaving desolate a heart 
filled with many hopes. But the memor}^ of the 
young wife is forever immortalized in the verse of 
her poet-husband ; for in the " Footsteps of Angels " 
we may read, — 

" When the hours of day ai'e numbered, 
And the voices of the night 
Wake the better soul, that slumbered, 
To a holy, calm delight ; 

Ere the evening lamps ai'e lighted. 
And, like phantoms grim and tall, 

Shadows from the fitful firelight 
Dance upon the parlor wall, — 

Then the forms of the departed 

Enter at the open door : 
The beloved, the true-hearted, 

Come to visit me once more ; 



And with them the Being Beauteous, 
Who unto my youth was given, 

More than all things else to love me, 
And is now a saint in heaven. 

With a slow and noiseless footstep 
Comes that messenger divine, 

Takes the vacant chair beside me, 
Lays her gentle hand in mine. 



194 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

And she sits and gazes at me 

With those deep and tender eyes, 

Like the stars, so still and saint-like, 
Looking downward from the skies. 

Uttered not, yet comprehended. 

Is the spirit's voiceless prayer, 
Soft rebukes, in blessings ended, 

Breathing from her lips of air. 

Oh, though oft depressed and lonely, 

All my fears are laid aside, 
If I but remember only 

Such as these have lived and died 1 " 

After the death of this most lovely and inestimable 
woman, the bereaved husband went to Heidelberg, 
Germany, where he passed the winter of 1835-36. 
Here he became acquainted with Samuel Ward, a 
cousin of George W. Greene, whom Longfellow had 
met earlier at Marseilles. How the acquaintance 
was formed is best related in Mr. Ward's own words. 
He says, — 

" In the summer of 1832, as I was discussing my 
plans for a trip to Europe in the autumn of that 
year, and a contemplated residence of several years 
abroad for purposes of study and instruction, my 
cousin, George Washington Greene of East Green- 
wich, late United-States consul at Rome, spoke to 
me with enthusiasm of the genius and promise of his 
friend Longfellow, then professor of modern lan- 
guages and belles-lettres at Bowdoin College, Maine. 
Mr. Greene was himself a ripe and accomplished 
scholar, as shown by his various contributions to 



INVITED TO CAMlilUDGE. 195 

historical literature, chief of wliich is the life of his 
distinguished grandfather, Gen. Nathanael Greene, 
Washington's 'man of action' during our Revolu- 
tionary war. 

" When, therefore, after a residence of nearly four 
years abroad, I was invited by my amiable Jewish 
banker, the late Adolph Zimmern, to a quiet conver- 
sazione at his house on a certain evening in March, 
1836, to meet Mrs. William CuUen Bryant and her 
daughter, and others of my countrymen, I was not a 
little surprised to find there Mr. Longfellow, the 
hero of the pen, not the sword, of my cousin's wor- 
ship. I referred to Greene, whose name was a warm 
introduction to him; and when we left the house, 
early in the evening, it was to adjourn to my hotel, 
the 'Badischer Hof,' where we sat up in earnest 
converse until daylight. I had stopped for a day or 
two at Heidelberg to see a few old friends, on my way 
to America, after a winter spent partly in Berlin with 
Henry Wheaton, then our minister at the Court of 
Prussia, and partly in Dresden with George Ticknor. 
I was full of anecdotes of the home of Hegel and of 
Humboldt, and of the little Court of Saxony, where 
Prince John was completing his translation of Dante, 
and Baron Lindenau, though Chancellor of Saxony, 
was still intent upon his astronomical determination 
of the vagaries of the planet Venus. Ludwig Tieck 
used to read to us once a week the matchless transla- 
tions of Shakspeare, for which the world is indebted 
to him, to august Wilhelm Schlegel, and — for that 
one of the plays, ' Romeo and Juliet ' — to Tieck's 
daughter. We also went more than once to the 



196 IIENIIY \yADSWOKTH LOifGrELLOW. 

studio of Moritz Retzch, the illustrator of ' Faust,' a 
stout, rosy-cheeked, short, enthusiastic artist, who 
looked for all the world the Saxon opposite of Da 
Vinci, or Raphael's classical features. 

" Longfellow had led a secluded life since the 
death of his young wife in Holland the previous 
autumn. My budget of rattling talk was, therefore, 
a cheering and interesting peep into the social world 
from which his mourning had so long excluded him ; 
and I also had glimpses to unfold of literary men 
and the artists and scientists of Paris, where I had 
spent two winters and a summer. The day follow- 
ing, I visited him at his rooms, which were strewn 
with books, in a house in the main street embracing 
a view of the castle. He was ready for another of 
my Sindbad narratives, and in later years more than 
once recalled, with a smile, the fact of my taking off 
my coat, as his room was warmed by a German stove, 
to talk more freely in my shirt-sleeves. 

" With me it was a case of love at first sight, 
which has burned with the steady light of a Jewish 
tabernacle ever since. When, a day or two after, I 
started for the town of Treves, he drove with me as 
far as Mannheim, where I bade him farcAvell. Our 
correspondence began when an accident detained me 
captive for a month at the residence of an old col- 
lege-friend in the town and fortress of Luxemburg." 

The spring and summer of 1836 were spent chiefly 
in Switzerland and the Tyrol. The impressions 
which these journeys left upon his mind are recorded 
in " Hyperion," where also we find the best itinerary 
of his several toura. It was in Switzerland that he 



INVITED TO CAMIUIIDC;?]. 197 

first met the lady who afterwards became his wife» 
and who, with her parents, was then making a grand 
tour on the Continent. 

On the 14th of November of the same year, Long- 
fellow arrived home ; and, on the 17th, Sumner thus 
wrote to his friend, Dr. Francis Lieber of New 
York: — 

" Longfellow has returned home, having arrived 
only three days ago, full of pleasant reminiscences 
and of health. He tells me that he called upon Mit- 
termaier, with a letter from you. He is a very 
pleasant fellow, and will at once assume the charge 
of Ticknor's department. . . . Longfellow left the 
Appletons in Switzerland." 

It may here be noted that Charles Sumner, who 
was at that time a young attorney trying his first 
cases at the Suffolk County Court, had casually met 
Longfellow, in Felton's room, in 1835, when Long- 
fellow first came to Cambridge to consult with the 
college officials preparatory to his trip to Europe. 
The acquaintance between Sumner and Felton had 
begun as far back as 1831, when the former was a 
student at the law-school, and the latter was a Greek 
professor in the academic department of the college. 
But of this and other friendships I shall speak later 
on. 

It was in the month of December, 1836, that the 
new Smith professor, having arrived and established 
himself in Cambridge, assumed the management of 
the department of modern languages and of belles- 
lettres at Harvard CoUeore. 



198 HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

LONGFELLOW'S FIRST YEARS IN CAMBRIDGE. 

U 836-1 839.) 

IN the year 1759, or thereabouts, Col. John Vassal 
erected an elegant and spacious mansion on a lot 
of land, comprising one hundred and fifty or more 
acres, lying on the outskirts of the then town of Cam- 
bridge, State of Massachusetts. Col. Vassal was a 
stanch loyalist ; and his family was a distinguished 
one, both in Old and New England. He took an 
active part against the Whigs in the struggles pre- 
liminary to hostilities, and early in 1775 became a 
fugitive under the protection of the royal standard. 
His Cambridge and Boston estates were confiscated ; 
and, in the dawn of the revolutionary strife, the 
former was occupied for a while by Gen. George 
Washington. Col. John Vassal retired to England, 
where he died in 1797, in consequence of eating, as 
it was said, a too hearty dinner. 

As the royalists went out, the republicans came 
in ; and the halls of the Tory now echoed to the 
tread of many feet. Col. John the first was suc- 
ceeded by Col. John Glover and a battalion of his 
Marblehead regiment. It is safe to affirm that the 
man of Marblehead has left a more enduring record 



Longfellow's first ykaks in Cambridge. 199 

than the marble of the Vassal. Glover served in the 
American army in the campaign against Bnrgojne. 
He commanded the troops drawn up to receive the 
surrender of the latter, and, with Whipple, escorted 
the forces of the convention to Cambridge. Before 
long, however, the Provincial Congress ordered the 
grand and sumptuous mansion cleared and made 
ready for a more illustrious tenant ; and in July, 
1776, Glover and his sturdy men of Essex vacated, 
and went quietly into camp. 

It was while the haj^makers were busy at their 
work in the royalists' meadows that Washington 
drove into Cambridge, and was lodged in the former 
abode of Col. Vassal ; and there he remained for the 
space of eight months ensuing. 

" Once, ah ! once, within these walls, 
One whom memory oft recalls, 
The Father of his Country dwelt ; 
And yonder meadows broad and damp, 
The fires of the besieging camp 
Encircled with a biu-ning belt." 

The commander-in-chief, on taking possession of 
the house, chose the south-east chamber for his sleep- 
ing apartment. The large room directly underneath 
this chamber he appropriated for his private study 
and official headquarters, and the room immediately 
in the rear was allotted to the military members of 
his family. " In the study," writes Mr. Drake,i " the 
ample autograph was appended to letters and orders 
that have formed the framework of contemporary 
I Old Landmarks and Historic Fields of Middlesex, by S. A. Drake. 



200 HENRY WADSWOKTH LONGFELLOW. 

history ; the march of Arnold to Quebec, the new 
organization of the Continental army, the occupation 
of Dorchester Heights, and the simple but graphic 
expression of the final triumph of patient endurance 
in the following order of the day : — 

Headquarters, 17th March, 1776. 
Parole, Boston. Countersign, St. Patrick. 
The regiments under marching orders to march to- 
morrow morning. Brigadier of the day, Gen. Sulhvau. 

By His Excellency's Command." 

In this study probably assembled the councils of 
war; and around the board sat Ward, Putnam, and 
Lee in the places of honor ; and Thomas, Heath, 
Greene, Sullivan, Spencer, and Knox in the order 
of rank. 

Opposite the study, and just across the broad hall, 
on the left as one enters, was the reception-room in 
which Mrs. Washington, who arrived in Cambridge 
at about the same time as the tidings of the capture 
of Montreal, received her guests. It is a matter of 
history that Mrs. Washington entered the house on 
the llth December, 1775, in company with Mrs. 
Gates, John Custis and lady, and George Lewis. 

In the rear of the reception-room was the dining- 
room, in which, from that day to this, have been 
gathered many of the most eminent military, civil, 
and literary characters of our country, nay, of many 
countries. 

While a resident of this house, " the general break- 
fasted at seven o'clock in the summer, and at eight 
in the winter. He dined at two, and drank tea early 




fcljWV<«»'^ 



Longfellow's first years in Cambridge. 201 

in the evening : supper he eschewed altogether. His 
breakfast was A^ery frugal ; and at this meal lie drank 
tea, of wliich he was extremely fond. He dined well, 
but was not difficult to please in the choice of his 
viands. There were usually eight or ten large dishes 
of meat and pastry, with vegetables, followed by a 
second course of pastry. After the removal of the 
cloth, the ladies retired ; and the gentlemen, as was 
then the fashion, partook of wine. Madeira, of which 
he drank a couple of glasses out of silver camp-cups, 
was the general's favorite wine. Washington sat 
long at table. An officer who dined with him says 
the repast occupied two hours, during which the 
general was toasting and conversing all the time. 
One of his aides was seated every day at the bottom 
of the table, near the general, to serve the company, 
and distribute the bottles." 

Washington departed from the Vassal House early 
in the month of April, 1776. On the occasion of his 
third visit to Boston, in 1789, he again passed through 
Cambridge, and spent about an hour in his old head- 
quarters. 

The war of the Revolution came at last to an end ; 
and the Vassal mansion became the property of 
Nathaniel Tracy, who has the credit of having fitted 
out the first private armed vessel that ever sailed 
from an American port. Mr. Tracy was patriotic, 
generous, and hospitable, and in his lordly home 
entertained many distinguished guests. 

After Mr. Tracy came Thomas Russell, a merchant- 
prince of Boston, who, says a tradition, once ate a 
;sandwich made of a hundred-dollar note and two 



202 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

slices of bread. Following him, in March, 1791, Dr^ 
Andrew Craigie, formerly apothecary-general to the 
Continental army, in which service he amassed a 
fortune, came into possession of the mansion. For 
the house and land, together with the adjoining house 
of Frederick Geyer, since familiarly known as the 
Batchelder estate, Dr. Craigie gave =£3,750 lawful 
money. He entertained two very notable person- 
ages in the house : one was Talleyrand, the evil genius 
of Napoleon ; the other was the Duke of Kent, the 
father of Queen Victoria. 

Edward Everett resided in the house just after his 
marriage, and while still a professor in the university 
of which he became president. Willard Phillips, 
and Worcester the lexicographer, also lived in the 
house which I am now considering. 

In October, 1832, Mr. Jared Sparks, subsequently 
president of Harvard University, married Miss Fran- 
ces Anne Allen of New York ; and, in the month of 
April of the following year, he began housekeeping 
in the Craigie mansion. At this period of his life he- 
was engaged on his " Writings of George Washing- 
ton." In his journal, under date of April 2, appears, 
the following entry : — 

" This day began to occupy Mrs. Craigie's house 
in Cambridge. It is a singular circumstance, that 
while I am engaged in preparing for the press the 
letters of Gen. Washington which he wrote at Cam- 
bridge, after taking command of the American arm3% 
I should occupy the same rooms that he did at that 
time." 

Dr. Craigie was ruined by his extravagant mode 



Longfellow's first years in Cambridge. 203 

■oi" living. The expenses which it entailed were more 
than he could meet; and, ere long, dire necessity 
forced him to part with all save eight of the two 
hundred acres originally included in the estate. 
After his death Mrs. Craigie was compelled, like- 
wise by necessity, to let lodgings to the youth of 
Harvard, or to whomsoever might apply for them ; 
and thus it was that such intellectual giants whom 1 
have named, and others not here mentioned, became 
occupants of the house. ^ 

I must now relate how it was that Professor Long- 
fellow came to live in this grand old mansion. The 
story has often been told, and is probably familiar to 
most readers ; but the purpose of this work compels 
me to go over it again. I will do so in the words of 
the original narrator, Mr. George William Curtis. 

In the summer of 1837 a young man passed down 

1 Some singular stories are told of this old, reduced gentlewoman. 
"On one occasion," says one writer, " her young poet-lodger, enter- 
ing her parlor in the morning, found her sitting by the open 
window, through which innumerable canker-worms had crawled 
from the trees that they were devouring outside. They had fas- 
tened themselves to her dress, and hung in little writhing festoons 
from the white turban on her head. Her visitor, surprised and 
shocked, asked if she would do nothing to destroy the worms. 
Raising her eyes from her book, — she sat calmly reading, like in- 
difference on a monument, — she said, in tones of solemn rebuke, 
'Young man, have not our fellow-worms as good aright to live as 
we ? ' — an answer which throws uncle Toby's ' Go, little fly! ' quite 
into the shade. 

" As this grim old lady lay a-dying, she sent for the lodger to bid 
Inm farewell. He approached the bedside, and looked silently upon 
the spectral figure, the withered face, the gray hair. Suddenly 
drawmg the bed-clothes around her, she opened her keen, sunken 
eyes, bright one moment before dimming with death, and uttered 
this strange greeting and farewell: 'Young man, never marry; for 
see how ugly an old woman looks in bed! ' " 



204 HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

the elm-shaded walk that separated the old Craigie 
House from the high road. Reaching the door, he 
paused to observe the huge old-fashioned brass 
knocker and the quaint handle, relics, evidently, of 
an epoch of colonial state. To his mind, however, 
the house, and these signs of its age, were not inter- 
esting from the romance of antiquity alone, but from 
their association with the early days of our Revolu- 
tion, when Gen, Washington, after the battle of 
Bunker Hill, had his headquarters in the mansion. 
Had his hand, perhaps, lifted this same latch, linger- 
ing, as he pressed it, in the whirl of a myriad emo- 
tions? Had he, too, paused in the calm summer 
afternoon, and watched the silver gleam of the broad 
river in the meadows, the dreamy blue of the Milton 
hills beyond ? And had the tranquillity of that land- 
scape penetrated his heart with " the sleep that is 
among the hills," and whose fairest dream to him 
was a hope now realized in the peaceful prosperity of 
his country? 

When the brazen clang of the huge knocker had 
ceased resounding, the great door slowly opened ; and 
no phantom serving-man, but a veritable flesh-and- 
blood retainer of the hostess of the mansion, invited 
the visitor to enter. He inquired for Mrs. Craigie. 
In answer, the door of a little parlor was thrown 
open ; and the young man beheld a tall, erect figure, 
majestically crowned with a turban, beneath which 
burned a pair of keen gray eyes. A commanding 
gravity of deportment, harmonious with the gentle- 
woman's age, and with the ancestral respectability 
of the mansion, assured profound respect ] while, at 



Longfellow's first years in cambrid(je. 205 

a glance, it was clear to see, that combination of 
reduced dignity condescending to a lower estate, and 
that pride of essential superiority to circumstances, 
which is traditional among women in the situation of 
the turbaned lady. There was kindliness mellowing 
the severity of her visitor's inquiry if there was a 
room vacant in the house. 

'•' I lodge students no longer," she responded grave- 
1}^ possibly not without regret, as she contemplated 
the applicant, that she had vowed so stern a resolu- 
tion. 

" But I am not a student," answered the stranger. 
" I am a professor in the university." 

"A professor?" said she inquiringly, as if her 
mind failed to conceive a professor without a clerical 
sobriety of apparel, a white cravat, or at least spec- 
tacles. 

" Professor Longfellow," continued the guest, in- 
troducing himself. 

" Ah ! that is different," said the old lady, her 
features slightly relaxing, as if professors were, ex 
officio, innocuous, and she need no longer barricade 
herself behind a stern gravity of demeanor. " I will 
show you what there is." 

Thereupon she preceded the professor up the stairs, 
and, gaining the upper hall, paused at each door, 
opened it, permitted him to perceive its delightful 
fitness for his purpose, kindled expectation to the 
utmost, then quietly closed the door again, observing, 
"You cannot have that." It was most Barmecide 
hospitality. The professorial eyes glanced restlessly 
around the fine old-fashioned points of the mansion, 



206 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

marked the wooden carvings, the air of opulent re- 
spectabilit}'- in the past, which corresponds in New 
Enghind to the impression of ancient nobility in Old 
England, and wondered in which of these pleasant 
fields of suggestive association he was to be allowed 
to pitch his tent. The turbaned hostess at length 
opened the door of the south-east-corner room in the 
second story ; and while the guest looked wistfully 
in, and awaited the customary " You cannot have 
that," he was agreeably surprised by a variation of 
the strain, to the effect that he might occupy it. 

The room was upon the front of the house, and 
looked over the meadows to the river. It had an 
atmosphere of fascinating repose, in which the young 
man was at once domesticated, as in an old home. 
The elms of the avenue shaded its windows ; and, as 
he glanced from them, the summer lay asleep upon 
the landscape in the windless day. 

" This," said the old lady, with a slight sadness in 
her voice, as if speaking of times forever past, and to 
which she herself properly belonged, " this was Gen. 
Washington's chamber." 

The stately hostess retired, and the next day the 
new lodger took possession of his room. 

Professor Longfellow's first literary production, 
after he had settled in Cambridge, was an article 
entitled " The Great Metropolis," a review of a work 
treating of life in London.^ The article was printed 
in " The North American Review " for April, 1837. 

1 The Great Metropolis. By the author of Random Recollections 
of the Lords and Commons. 2 vols. 12mo. New York: Saunders 
and Otley. 1837, 



Longfellow's first years in Cambridge. 207 

The most that can be said of it is, that it is pleas- 
antly written, and is, in spirit, very much against the 
book. " In reading the book," says the reviewer, 
"yon feel that you are walking through London with 
a man who wears a shocking bad hat : and when 
your walk is at an end, though you cannot but thank 
him for the information he has given you, neverthe- 
less you commend him in future to the raising of 
cucumbers or the digging of fish-ponds ; for you see 
that he is ' of the earth, earthy.' " 

In the early part of the year 1837, a strong and 
lasting friendship was formed between Henry W. 
Longfellow, aged thirty, Cornelius C. Felton, aged 
twenty-nine, George S, Hillard and Henry R. Cleve- 
land, each aged twenty-eight, and Charles Sumner, 
aged twenty-six. They called themselves the " Five 
of Clubs." Felton was at this time the professor of 
Greek in Harvard College ; Cleveland was a teacher 
by profession, and an able scholar withal; Hillard 
and Sumner were partners in the practice of the lav/. 
Longfellow had been introduced to Felton by his old 
schoolmate, John Owen, two years before, and in 
Felton's room had first met Sumner. Never were 
five ambitious souls brought together in more con- 
genial harmony. On Saturday afternoons they usu- 
ally came together. We are told that "they met 
simply as friends with common tastes and the fullest 
sympathy with each other, talking of society, the 
week's experiences, new books, their individual stud- 
ies, plans, and hopes, and of Europe, — which Long- 
fellow and Cleveland had seen, and which the others 
longed to see. They loved good cheer, but observed 



208 HBNKY WADSWOliTH LONGFELLOW. 

moderation in their festivities. A table simply spread 
became a symposium when Felton, with his joyous 
nature, took his seat among his friends ; and the 
other four were not less genial and hearty. There 
was hardly a field of literature which one or the 
other had not traversed, and they took a constant 
interest in each other's studies. Each sought the 
criticism of the rest upon his own book, essay, or 
poem before it was given to the public. Their mu- 
tual confidence seemed to know no limitation of 
distrust or fear of possible alienation ; and they re- 
vealed, as friends do not often reveal, their inner 
life to each other. Rarely in history has there been 
a fellowship so beautiful as that of these gifted 
young men." ^ 

For a time the meetings were held at Longfel- 
low's room in the old Craigie House ; sometimes at 
Felton's ; and, not often, at No. 4 Court Street, 
Boston, — the law-office of Sumner and Hillard. 
Occasionally the friends would adjourn their meet- 
ings in order to pay a. visit at the home of Professor 
Andrews Norton, — whose heart was as large as his 
scholarship, — the father of Professor Charles Eliot 
Norton. 

During Sumner's absence in Europe, the Five of 
Clubs was limited to four members ; but the re-unions 
were still kept up, and the absent one was often dis- 
cussed and never forgotten at the genial board. 
When he arrived home, he found that several 
changes had taken place. Cleveland had taken 
unto himself a wife, and was now living at " Pine 

1 Pierce's Memoirs and Letters of Charles Sumner. Vol. i. p. ICl. 



Longfellow's fikst years in Cambridge. 209 

Bank," near Jamaica Pond; Felton was also mar- 
ried, and living in the new house which he had built 
in Cambridge. This was in the early part of the 
year 1840. Although increasing family-cares now 
began to break in upon the meetings, they in no 
way lessened the bonds of friendship. On Saturday 
afternoons Sumner was always to be found at the 
Craigie House, and not unfrequently Felton would 
join the two intimates at the dinner-hour. Between 
Sumner and Longfellow there was never any diffi- 
dence and reserve ; as they were when they first 
met, so they remained for thirty-seven years. 

Let us now turn our attention for a while to that 
warm friendship which sprung up about this time 
between Longfellow and his old classmate Nathan- 
iel Hawthorne. Ever since his graduation in 1825, 
Hawthorne had been leading the life of a recluse at 
Salem, Mass., verily sitting in his little room under 
the eaves, reading, studying, meditating, and "feeling 
his way through the twilight of dreams, into the 
dusky chambers of that house of thought whose 
haunted interior none but himself ever visited." 
But rarely did he have any communication with the 
members of his family; but rarely did he forsake 
the upper chamber in the old Herbert-street man- 
sion ; but rarely did he walk into that pew in the 
First Church, which his family had held since 1640. 
To the external world he was as if he were dead: 
and yet, during all these years, he was never idle ; 
for his brain was weaving those ethereal fancies, 
which, printed first in several of the jDeriodicals of 
the day, subsequently re-appeared in a collective 



210 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

form as the " Twice-told Tales." ^ On March 7, 
1837, Hawthorne Avrote the following missive to 
Longfellow : — 

" The agent of the American Stationers' Company 
will send you a copy of a book entitled ' Twice-told 
Tales,' of which, as a classmate, I venture to request 
your acceptance. We were not, it is true, so well 
acquainted at college that I can plead an absolute 
right to inflict my ' Twice-told ' tediousness upon 
you ; but I have often regretted that we were not 
better known to each other, and have been glad of 
your success in literature and in more important 
matters. ... I should like to flatter myself that 
they would repay you some part of the pleasure 
which I have derived from your own ' Outre-Mer.' " 

Longfellow replied cordially to this letter, and 
assured Hawthorne that he had often been in his 
remembrance. The latter again wrote, in June, — 

" Since we last met, which you remember was in 
'Sawtelle's room, where you read a farewell poem to 
the relics of the class, — ever since that time I have 
secluded myself from society ; and yet I never meant 
any such thing, nor dreamed what sort of life I was 
going to lead. I have made a captive of myself, and 
j)ut me into a dungeon, and now I cannot find the 
key to let myself out ; and, if the door were open, I 
should be almost afraid to come out. You tell me 
that you have met with troubles and changes. I 



1 Twice-told Tales. By Nathaniel Hawtlionie. Bostoii: Ameri- 
can Stationers' Company. 1837. 12mo, pp. 3;34. The pecuniary risk 
was assumed by Horatio Bridge, and not till long afterward did 
Hawthorne know of his friend's generous interjJosition. 



Longfellow's first years in camijkidge. 211 

know not what these may have been, but I can 
assure you that trouble is the next best thing to 
enjoyment, and that there is no fate in this world so 
horrible as to have no share in either its joys or sor- 
rows. For the last ten years I have not lived, but 
only dreamed of living. It may be true that there 
have been some unsubstantial pleasures here in the 
shade, which I might have missed in the sunshine; 
but you cannot conceive how utterly devoid of satis- 
faction all my retrospects are. I have laid up no 
treasure of pleasant remembrances against old age, 
but there is some comfort in thinking that future 
years can hardly fail to be more varied and therefore 
more tolerable than the past." 

Longfellow recognized his old classmate in a way 
more substantial than by merely answering letters. 
In the July number of " The North American Re- 
view." 1837, he published an appreciative review of 
the " Twice-told Tales : " — 

" When a new star rises in the heavens," he begins 
by saying, " people gaze after it for a season with the 
naked eye, and with such telescopes as they may find. 
In the stream of thought, which flows so peacefully 
deep and clear, through the pages of this book, we 
see the bright reflection of a spiritual star, after 
which men will be fain to gaze ' with the naked eye 
and with the spy -glasses of criticism.' .This star is 
but newly risen ; and ere long the observations of 
numerous star-gazers, perched upon arm-chairs and 
editors' tables, will inform the world of its magni- 
tude and its place in the heaven of poetry, whether 
it be in the paw of the Great Bear, or on the fore- 



212 HENEY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

head of Pegasus, or on the strings of the lyre, or in 
the wing of the eagle. Our own observations are 
as follows : — 

" To this little work we would say, ' Live ever, 
sweet, sweet book.' It comes from the hand of a 
.man of genius. Every thing about it has the freshness 
of morning and of May. These flowers and green 
leaves, of poetry have not the dust of the highway 
upon them. They have been gathered fresh from 
the secret places of a peaceful and gentle heart. 
There flow deep waters, silent, calm, and cool ; and 
the green trees look into them, and ' God's blue 
heaven.' The book, though in prose, is written 
nevertheless by a poet. He looks upon all things 
in the spirit of love, and with lively sympathies ; for 
to him external form is but the representation of 
internal being, all things having a life, an end, and 
aim." 

The article is interspersed with numerous cita- 
tions and extracts from the book, and concludes 
as follows : — 

" These extracts are sufficient to show the beauti- 
ful and simple style of the book before us, its vein 
of pleasant philosophy, and the quiet humor, which 
is to the face of a book what a smile is to the face 
of man. In speaking in terms of such high praise 
as we have done, we have given utterance, not alone 
to our own feelings, but, we trust, to those of all 
gentle readers of the 'Twice-told Tales.' Like chil- 
dren we say, ' Tell us more.' " 

Hawthorne received the quarterl}^ and read the 
review with no ordinary interest. In his note of 



Longfellow's first years in Cambridge. 213 

thanks, dated June 19, he says, " I frankly own that 
I was not without hopes that you would do this kind 
office for the book ; though I could not have antici- 
pated how very kindly it would be done. Whether 
or no the public will agree to the praise which you 
bestow on me, there are at least five persons who 
think you the most sagacious critic on earth; viz., 
my mother and two sisters, my old maiden aunt, and 
tinally, the strongest believer of the whole five, my 
own self." 

Unfortunately the enthusiasm of Longfellow did 
not much increase the demand for the book. Some 
six or seven hundred copies were disposed of, to be 
sure, but not enough to bring gladness to the heart 
of its author. But it initiated a very strong and 
earnest friendship between the poet and the roman- 
cer. Thenceforth there existed no barriers between 
them : they courted and loved each other's society. 
Into the quiet chamber of the Salem recluse came 
often a welcome guest, none other than the author 
of the " Psalm of Life ; " and now and then the 
visits were returned. But why seek to penetrate 
the secrecy and the charm which overshadow them ? 

In the July number of the quarterly, 1837, ap- 
peared an able article entitled " Tegner's Frithiofs 
Saga." It was prepared by Professor Longfellow 
while he was sojourning in Europe, and was sent to 
the editors of " The Review " in the autumn of 1836. 
It was placed on file, to await the return home of 
its author , as it was not thought wise to issue it be- 
fore it should have had the advantage of his own 
personal correction of the proof-sheets. Other cir- 



,214 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

cum stances delayed its publication till the date 
named above. 

The essay opens with a slight biographical sketch 
of Esaias Tegner, and is followed by pleasant pic- 
tures of home-life in Sweden. Tlien conies the story 
of the poem, interspersed with frequent translations 
from the original. The substance of this article was 
afterwards reprinted in the "Poets and Poetry of 
Europe," and in the poet's collected works are sev- 
eral of the versions. Notable among the latter are 
the cantos entitled " Frithiof s Courtship," and 
" Frithiofs Temptation." Tegn^r's poem is writ- 
ten in the singular measure of the iambic trimeter, 
which, in the article, Longfellow declares to be 
"solemn-sounding, but to English ears unmusical 
and lame." ^ 

During the summer of 1838, Professor Longfellow 
prepared and published in the July number of " The 
North American Review " a critical essay entitled 
"Anglo-Saxon Literature," based on the recently 
published works of Thorpe, Conybeare, and Kemble. 
To scholars the paper ought to prove interesting and 
perhaps valuable. 

1 As a specimen, liere is the first stanza of the canto entitled 
Frithiofs Temptation: — 

" Vai-en konimer, faglen qvittvar, skogen lofvas, solen ler, 
OcVi de Itista floder daiisa sjungande mot hafvet ner: 
Glodandc som Frojas kitider tittar rosen ur sin knopp, 
Och i menskans lijurla vakiia lefnadslust och mod ooli hopp." 

Which Longfellow translates, — 

" Spring is coming, birds are twittering, forests leaf, and smiles the sun; 
And the loosened torrents downward singing to tlie ocean run : 
Glowinir like the cheek of Freya, peeping rosebuds 'gin to ope, 
And in human hearts awaken love of life, and joy, and hope." 



Longfellow's first ykaks in cambkidge. 215 

We will now take a brief survey of the cf.ndition 
of Harvard University at the time when Longfellow 
entered upon his new field of labor. In September, 
1836, two months before the professor formally 
received his appointment, the second centennial 
anniversary of the foundation of the college was 
celebrated with great eclat. A pavilion was erected 
on the college-grounds, where the alumni assembled, 
answering to the roll-call of graduates. An old man 
of eightj^-six, of the class of 1774, was the first to 
answer. The address was delivered by President 
Quincy. Odes were recited, speeches were made by 
Edward Everett and Joseph Story and other mag- 
nates of the institution. Everett presided ; and Rob- 
ert C. Winthrop, a direct descendant of the first 
governor of the Massachusetts Colony, one of the 
earliest supporters of the college, was the marshal of 
the day. The college buildings were illuminated in 
the evening. The outward appearance of the institu- 
tion is well shown by the accompanying illustration. 

At the time when Professor Longfellow began his 
work in the college, Josiah Quincy, LL.D., a gradu- 
ate of 1790, for eight years a member of the National 
Congress, and for five years one of the best mayors 
that the city of Boston ever had, was the president 
of the university. He had been chosen in 1829 as 
the worthy successor of John Thornton Kirkland. 
Associated with him in the college faculty were the 
Hon. Joseph Story, LL.D., who, in 1811, was ap- 
pointed, by President Madison, Associate Justice of 
the Supreme Court of the United States, and since 
June, 1829, had been the Dane professor of law in 



216 IIENEY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

the university ; Simon Greenleaf, LL.D., since 1833 
the successor of Ashmun as the Royall professor of 
law; Edward Tja-rel Channing, LL.D., brother of 
William Ellery Channing, D.D., and of Walter Chan- 
ning, M.D., since 1819 the Boylston professor of rhet- 
oric and oratory in the college, "where the exactness 
of his instruction, his cultivated taste, and his highly 
disciplined mental powers, gave him an emiuent 
reputation with his pupils;" Daniel Treadwell, the 
Rumford professor of the physical and mathematical 
sciences as applied to the useful arts ; John Ware, 
]\I.D., the Hersey professor of physics ; Cornelius 
Conway Felton, the Eliot professor of Greek litera- 
ture, and subsequently president of the college ; 
Benjamin Peirce, LL.D., the Perkins professor of 
astronomy and mathematics since 1842. 

In the department of modern languages at this 
time, to which, as I have previously remarked, great 
attention was being jDaid, Francis Sales was the in- 
structor in French and Spanish from 1816 to 1839, 
and in Spanish alone until 1854, the year of his death. 
To him belongs the honor of having done more than 
any other one man of his time to spread the love of 
Spanish literature in the United States, and of hav- 
ing been the first instructor in Spanish of George 
Ticknor, the distinguished author of the history of 
Spanish literature. Pietro Bachi, A.M., J.U.D., was 
an instructor in Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese ; 
Francis M. J. Surault was the instructor in French ; 
and Hermann Bokum was the instructor in German. 

It will thus be seen that the difficulties whicli sur- 
rounded Professor Longfellow at the time when he 



218 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW, 

began his labors at Bowdoin College were entirely 
wanting at Harvard. In the latter institution, the 
department of modern languages had already been 
created, and for many years had been in active prog- 
ress. All that remained for the new professor was, to 
simply continue, and, if possible, advance to higher 
accomplishments, the working of this department. 
He undertook the task thoroughly fortified and 
equipped, as we already know. 

It is interesting in this connection to glance hur- 
riedly at the educational standing of the college at 
this period. Harvard stood then, as it does to-day, 
foremost of American colleges. Its corps of teachers 
was wholly made up of eminent men-; and their com- 
bined scholarship has never since, I fancy, been sur- 
passed, if indeed equalled. ,The reputation of these 
instructors attracted young men from all sections of 
the continent, just as at the present time the reputa- 
tion of the college itself draws them to its halls of 
prestige. In 1836 there were two hundred and 
nineteen students in the under-graduate department 
alone ; and of these how many have made their names 
recognized throughout the country. ^ 

1 The requisites for the admission of a student to the college, in 
1836, were as follows: the whole of Virgil and Csesar, Cicero's Se- 
lect Orations, Adam's Latin Grammar (Gould's edition), and the 
writing of Latin; Jacob's Greek Reader, the Four Gosi^els of the 
Greek Testament, the Gloucester Greek Grammar (Cambridge edi- 
tion), and the writing of Greek; Lacroix's Arithmetic (Cambridge 
edition), Euler's Algebra, and the Elements of Geography, Ancient 
and Modern, by J. E. Worcester. 

The annual expenses, including instruction, library, lecture- 
rooms, steward's department, rent and care of room, amounted to 
ninety dollars. When a student entered college, his parents or 
guardian filed a statement with the patron (always some well-known 



Longfellow's first years in Cambridge. 219 

Professor Longfellow received his appointment in 
November, 1836 ; and before the opening of the new 
year he had begun to busy himself with its duties. 
From this time until 1854, — eighteen years, — he re- 
tained his professorship, and was then succeeded by 
his brother poet, James Russell Lowell. 

I know not how better to characterize his work in 
the college than by printing a letter written by 
Edward Everett Hale, D.D., under date of Feb. 5, 
1881. He says,— 

" I was so fortunate as to be in the first ' section,' 
which Mr. Longfellow instructed personally when he 
came to Cambridge in 1836. Perhaps I best illus- 
trate the method of his instruction, when I say that 
I think every man in that section would now say 
that he was on intimate terms with Mr. Longfellow. 
We are all near sixty now ; but I think that every 
one of the section would expect to have Mr. Long- 
fellow recognize him, and would enter into familiar 
talk with him, if the}^ met. From the first, he chose 
to take with us the relation of a personal friend a 
few years older than we were. 

"As it happened, the regular recitation-rooms of 
the college were all in use ; and, indeed, I think he 
was hardly expected to teach any language at all. 

citizen of Cambridge not officially connected with the college) of the 
amount of money the student was to be annually allowed for his 
incidental and outside contingencies: and, whenever a student 
wanted money for any purpose, he was obliged to apply to the 
patron for the desired amount; it being optional with the latter to 
either grant it or to refuse. It was against a law of the college for 
any student to incur a debt without having jireviously asked permis- 
sion of the patron. 

Commencement was held on the last Wednesday in August. 



220 HENEY WADSWOKTH LONGFELLOW. 

He was to oversee the dej^artment, and to lecture. 
But he seemed to teach us German for the love of it. 
I know I thought he did ; and, till now, it has never 
occurred to me to ask whether it were a part of his 
regular duty. Anyway, we did not meet him in one 
of the rather dingy ' recitation-rooms,' but in a sort 
of parlor, carpeted, hung with pictures, and otherwise 
handsomely furnished, which was, I believe, called 
' the corporation-room.' We sat round a mahogany 
table, which was reported to be meant for the dinners 
of the trustees ; and the whole affair had the aspect 
of a friendly gathering in a private house, in which 
the study of German was the amusement of the occa- 
sion. These accidental surroundiugs of the place 
characterize well enough the whole proceeding. 

" He began with familiar ballads, read tliem to us, 
and made us read them to him. Of course we soon 
committed them to memory without meaning to, and 
I think this was probably part of his theory. At 
the same time we were learning tlie paradigms by 
rote. But we never studied the grammar, except to 
learn them ; nor do I know to this hour what are the 
contents of half the pages in the regular German 
grammars. 

" This was quite too good to last. For his regular 
duty was the oversight of five or more instructors 
who were teaching French, German, Italian, Spanish, 
and Portuguese to two or three hundred under-ofradu- 
ates. All these gentlemen were of European birth, 
and you know how under-graduates are apt to fare 
with such men. Mr. Longfellow liad a real adminis- 
tration of the whole department. His title was. 



LONGFELLOW"s KFRST YEARS IN CAMMUIDGK. 221 

' Smith professor of modern literature ; ' but we al- 
ways called him 'the head,' because he was head of 
the department. We never knew when he might 
look in on a recitation and virtually conduct it. We 
were delighted to have liini come. Any slipshod 
work of some poor wretch from France, who was 
tormented by wild-cat sophomores, would be made 
straight and decorous and all right. We all knew 
he was a poet, and were proud to have him in the 
college ; but at the same time we respected him as a 
man of affairs. 

" Besides this, he lectured on authors, or more 
general subjects. I think attendance was voluntary, 
but I know we never missed a lecture. I have full 
notes of his lectures on Dante's 'Divina Commedia,' 
which confirm my recollections; namely, that he read 
the whole to us in English, and explained whatever he 
thought needed comment. I have often referred to 
these notes since. And though I suppose that he in- 
cluded all that he thought worth while in his note to 
his translation of Dante, I know, that, until that was 
published, I could find no such reservoir of comment 
on the poem." 

It appears to be the testimony of all who were so 
fortunate as to receive instruction from Professor 
Longfellow, that he never talked or read or lectured 
for display, but always to put his auditors in posses- 
sion of what he knew. No man had less of the 
schoolmaster, or of that dry and technical wisdom 
which the title of '• Professor " too often implies. 
He did not profess learning, but practised it, and 
made it attractive by his example. As usual, many 



222 HENKY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

anecdotes were told about him : and the under-gradu- 
ate wits invented the customary number of jokes at 
his expense ; but these, when coming to his knowl- 
edge, never annoyed him, — indeed, he oftentimes 
seemed to enjoy them. A peculiar weakness in his 
manner of dress prompted the college satirists to 
nonsensical doggerel, but even this did not offend 
him. The gibe of Margaret Fuller about a " dandy 
Pindar ' took its sting from the slight youthful fond- 
ness of Longfellow for display in cravats and waist- 
coats, — as if he had carried the same foible into his 
poetry, which he never did. 

Professor Longfellow always addressed the mem- 
bers of the various classes as "Mr.," and thereby 
won their respect from the start. So exact was he 
in all matters of personal etiquette, that, as one 
writer remarks, " he laid the stress of his refinement 
upon all the members of his class." As he rarely 
failed to praise the keener intellects, so did he in- 
variably assist and encourage such as were slow of 
intellect. 

Longfellow's professional service at Harvard Col- 
lege proved an advantage to the college : it mate- 
rially assisted his own reputation. It carried him 
into the best society of the time, where his charming 
manner and scholarly attainments made and estab- 
lished him a great favorite. He well understood 
the secret of the art of pleasing, but on no occasion 
was he given to flattery or fawning ; and never did 
he go so far as to render himself ridiculous by osten- 
tatiousness or uncalled-for pedantry. He was ever 
modest, even to a fault : he was shy of his own 



Longfellow's first years in Cambridge. 223 

ability ; he seemed to undervalue his powers of mind, 
and to dwell always in the fear that others would 
over-value them. As a teacher, he suffered from 
having a liighly sensitive nature i he never liked to 
trouble anybody, even to ask a favor; and the mis- 
haps and perplexities of others affected him more 
than his own. 

He well understood the work that was set before 
him, and he kept it uppermost in his thoughts. 
Though desirous of literary honors, and a lover of 
literary toil, he ever placed the art of teaching be- 
fore the art of authorship, the advancements of his 
pupils before his own advancement. The statutes 
governing his department compelled him to deliver 
usually three lectures a week during the college 
term. This was no sinecure task, but one which 
involved careful study and arduous preparation. 
Still, he never shirked its responsibility : to the last 
hour of his professional service, he was patient, 
faithful, trusted, and trustful ; and, as we all know, 
whatever he did redounded to the welfare of the 
institution in which he labored. 



224 HEJS'KY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 



CHAPTER IX. 

"HYPERION" AND "VOICES OF THE NIGHT." 

(1839.) 

WHILE travelling in Switzerland in the sum- 
mer of 1836, Professor Longfellow met and 
became acquainted with Mr. Nathan Appleton of 
Boston, who, with his family, was making the tour 
of the Continent in a style fully justified by his 
ample means. Mr. Appleton, tlien nearly sixty 
years of age, was noted for his large heart and amia- 
bility ; his daughter, Miss Frances Elizabeth Apple- 
ton, for her surpassing beauty ; and the young 
professor for his m.odest demeanor and scholarly 
attainments. Altogether it was a pleasant company. 

At the time of this felicitous meeting, the Apple- 
tons were about to cross over the mountains, accom- 
panied by their footmen and postilions. The pro- 
fessor was invited to join them, and to take a seat 
in the carriage. He did so, and became the vis-a-vis 
of the charming young lady, whose face and figure 
grew lovelier in his eyes the longer he gazed upon 
them. 

When they arrived at Zurich, the members of the 
party made ninuerous side excursions, but always 
returned to " The Raven " inn for the night. A whole 



" HYPERION "' AND " VOICES OF THE NIGHT." 225 

week passed on, and it became evident that love was 
again weaving its spell around the professor's heart. 
But the young lady was not to be so easily won, — 
at least not for the present. On the day of depart- 
ure from the inn, an incident occurred which will 
bear repeating. On arriving at the inn, Mr. Apple- 
ton 'had written his name in the register, and had 
added a few words of compliment to the place. 
When the bill was brought to him, he found, much 
to his chagrin, that it was exorbitant. 

" But I have not written my name," said Mr. 
Longfellow ; " and, if you will allow me, I will treat 
the inn-keeper as he deserves." 

So saying, the professor withdrew with the book, 
and had presently written over his name the fol- 
lowing : — 

" Beware of the raven of Zurich ! 
'Tis a bird of omen ill, 
With a noisy and an unclean nest, 
And a very, very long bill." 

Not long afterwards the party separated, — the 
Appletons went in one direction, and Professor 
Longfellow in another. In the heart of the latter 
was brought back to America the image of her who 
had so completely captivated it. It was destined .to 
linger there until it should be fairly won by the 
charming and persuasive eloquence of the hero of a 
romance. 

Meanwhile, amid the duties of his professional 
life at Cambridge, Longfellow conceived the idea 
of writing a story. He was still lodging in the 
south-east chamber of the Craigie House ; and here. 



226 HENRY WADSWOUTII LONGFELLOW. 

in the winter of 1838-9, he planned and worked 
out and completed the work. It was called " Hy- 
perion : a Romance," and was published in the sum- 
mer of 1839 by Samuel Colman, who had then 
removed to New York.^ 

People who expected to find in " Hyperion " a 
"prodigious amount of diabolical mysteries, trap- 
doors without number, subterranean dungeons, and 
the clanking of chains," were greatly disappointed ; 
for it was by no means a story of this description, 
but rather one whose quiet, delicate, and beautiful 
pictures contrasted with the terrific scenes of old 
romance, like a soft, autumnal scene compared with 
the landscape swept by the tropical hurricane. The 
actors, like the personoe in a Greek play, were few. 
All the materials, thoughts, feelings, scenery, and 
illustrations were drawn from the regions of roman- 
tic sentiment and poetry. The author was an Ameri- 
can, who had known sorrow, who was a lover of the 
Middle Ages, who was a great and observing trav- 
eller, a student, and something of a poet. With a 
memory stored with the legends of the mediaeval 
period, he was eager to carry his reader back with 
himself to the illusions of the past. 

And now let us glance at the romance itself, and, 
with the help of a few extracts, endeavor to learn the 
secret of its popularity. 

Tlie story, if one chooses to call it such, intro- 

1 The following was the full title: Hyperion: a Romance. By 
the author of Outre-Mer. New York: Samuel Colman. In 2 vols. 
12mo, pp. 213, 226. 

On the eve of its publication, Mr. Colman failed; and the work 
was undertaken by Mr. John Owen of Cambrid,c;o. 



"HYPERION" AND "VOICES OF THE NIGHT." 227 

duces its hero " pursuing his way along the Rhine 
to the south of Germany." His name is Paul Flem- 
ming, — a convenient substitute for the author's 
own. 

" The setting of a great hope is like the setting of the 
sun. The brightness of our life is gone. Shadows of 
evening fall around us ; and the world seems but a dim 
reflection, — itself a broader shadow. We look forward 
into the coming lonely night. The soul withdraws into 
itself. Then stars arise, and the night is holy. 

"Paul Flemming had experienced this, though still 
young. The friend of his youth was dead. The bough 
had broken ' under the burden of the unripe fruit. ' And 
when, after a season, he looked up again from the blind- 
ness of his sorrow, all things seemed unreal. Like the 
man whose sight had been restored by miracle, he beheld 
men, as trees, walking. His household gods were broken. 
He had no home. His sympathies cried aloud from his 
desolate soul ; and there came no answer from the busy, 
turbulent world around him. He did not willingly give 
way to grief. He struggled to be cheerful, — to be strong. 
But he could no longer look into the familiar faces of his 
friends. He could no longer live alone where he had 
lived with her. He went abroad, that the sea might be 
between him and the grave. Alas ! between him and- his 
sorrow there could be no sea, but that of time. 

' ' He had already passed many months in lonely wan- 
dering, and was now pursuing his way along the Rhine, 
to the south of Germany. He had journeyed the same 
way before, in brighter days and a brighter season of 
the year, in the May of life and in the month of May. 
He knew the beautiful river all by heart, — every rock 
and ruin, every echo, every legend. The ancient castles, 



"228 HENEY WADSWOKTH LONGFELLOW. 

grim and boar, that had taken root as it were on the 
cliffs, — they were all his ; for his thoughts dwelt in them, 
and the wind told him tales." 

Ill the next five chapters the author gives a pic- 
turesque description of the journey along the Rhine, 
and interweaves into it many of tlie old legends and 
traditions of that region. By and by Paul Flem- 
ming arrives at the castle of Heidelberg ; and there 
he encounters a young German baron, with whom 
he is to pass the winter. From the seventh chapter 
I take the following interesting passage : — 

"What a strange picture a university presents to the 
imagination ! The lives of scholars in their cloistered 
stillness ; literary men of retired habits ; and professors 
who study sixteen hours a day, and never see the world 
but on a Sunday. Nature has, no doubt for some wise 
purpose, placed in their hearts this love of literary labor 
and seclusion. Otherwise, who would feed the undying 
lamp of thought? But for such men as these, a blast of 
wind through the chinks and crannies of this old world, 
or the flapping of a conqueror's banner, would blow it 
out forever. The light of the soul is easily extinguished. 
And, whenever I reflect upon these things, I become 
aware of the great importance, in a nation's historj^ of 
the individual fame of scholars and literary men. 1 fear 
that it is far greater than tlie world is willing to acknowl- 
edge, or, perhaps I should say, than the world has thought 
of acknowledging. Blot out from England's history the 
names of Chaucer, Shakspeare, Spenser, and Milton 
only, and how much of her glory would you blot out 
with them ! Take from Italy such names as Dante, 
Petrarch, Boccaccio, Michel Augelo, and Raphael, and 



"HYPERION" AND ''VOICES OF TJIK NIGHT." 229 

how much would be wunting to the completeness of her 
glory ! How would the history of Spain look, if the 
leaves were torn out on which are written the names of 
Cervantes, Lope de Vega, and Calderon ? What would 
be the fame of Portugal without her Canioens ; of 
France without her Racine and Rabelais and Voltaire ; 
or of Germany without her INIartin Luther, her Goethe, 
and her Schiller? — Nay, what were the nations of old 
without their philosophers, poets, and historians? Tell 
me, do not these men, in all ages and in all places, em- 
blazon with bright colors the armorial bearings of their 
country? Yes, and far more than this: for in all ages 
and in all places they give humanity assurance of its 
greatness, and say, ' Call not this time or people wholly 
barbarous ; for thus much, even then and there, could the 
human mind achieve ! ' But the boisterous world has 
hardly thought of acknowledging all this. Therein it has 
shown itself somewhat ungrateful. Else, whence the 
great reproach, the general scorn, the loud derision, with 
which, to take a familiar example, the monks of the 
Middle Ages are regarded? That they slept their lives 
away is most untrue. For in an age when books were 
few, — so few, so precious, that they were often chained 
to their oaken shelves with iron chains, like gallej'-slaves 
to their benches, — these men, with their laborious hands, 
copied upon parchment all the lore and wisdom of the 
past, and transmitted it to us. Perhaps it is not too 
much to say, that, but for these monks, not one line of 
the classics would have reached our day. Surely, then, 
we can pardon something to those superstitious ages, per- 
haps even the mysticism of the scholastic philosophy ; 
since, after all, we can find no harm in it, only the mis- 
taking of the possible for the real, and the high aspirings 
of the human mind after a long-sought and unknown 



230 HENEY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

somewhat. I think the name of Martin Luther, the monk 
of Wittenberg, alone sufficient to redeem all monkhood 
from the reproach of laziness. If this will not, perhaps 
the vast folios of Thomas Aquinas will ; or the countless 
manuscripts, still treasured in old libraries, whose yellow 
and wrinkled pages remind one of the hands that wrote 
them and the faces that once bent over them." 

From the chapter on " Literary Fame " I quote 
the following significant paragraphs : — 

" ' But, at any rate, a town life is most eventful,' con- 
tinued the baron. ' The men who make or take the 
lives of poets and scholars, always compLiin that these 
lives are barren of incidents. Hardl}' a literary biogra- 
phy begins without some such apology, unwisely made. 
I confess, however, that it is not made without some show 
of truth, if by incidents we mean only those startling 
events which suddenly turn aside the stream of time, and 
change the world's history in an hour. There is certainly 
a uniformity, pleasing or unpleasing, in literary life, 
which for the most part makes to-day seem twin-born 
with yesterday. But if by incidents you mean events in 
the history of the human mind, (and why not?) noiseless 
events, that do not scar the forehead of the world as bat- 
tles do, yet change it not the less, then surely the lives 
of literary men are most eventful. The complaint and 
the apology are both foolish. I do not see why a suc- 
cessful book is not as great an event as a successful cam- 
paign, only different in kind, and not easil}" compared.' 

" 'Indeed,' interrupted Flemming, ' in no sense is the 
complaint strictly true, though at times apparently so. 
Events enough there are, were they all set down. A life 
that is worth writing at all is worth writing minutely. 



"HYPERION" AND "VOICES OF THE NIGHT." 231 

Besides, nil literary men have not lived in silence and 
solitude, — not all in stillness, not all in shadow. For 
many have lived in troubled times, in the rude and ad- 
verse fortunes of the state and age, and could say, with 
Wallenstein, — 

' " Our life was but a battle and a march; 

And, like the wind's blast, never resting, homeless, 
We stormed across the war-convulsed earth." ' 

Many such examples has history recorded, — Dante, Cer- 
vantes, Byron, and others, men of iron, — men who have 
dared to breast the strong breath of public opinion, and, 
like spectre-ships, come sailing right against the wind. 
Others have been puffed out by the first adverse wind that 
blew ; disgraced and sorrowful, because they could not 
please others. Had they been men, they would have 
made these disappointments their best friends, and 
learned from them the needful lesson of self-reliance.' 

"'To confess the truth,' added the baron, 'the lives 
of literary men, with their hopes and disappointments, 
and quarrels and calamities, present a melanchol}^ picture 
of man's strength and weakness. On that very account 
the scholar can make them profitable for encouragement, 
consolation, warning.' 

"' And, after all,' continued Flemming, 'perhaps the 
greatest lesson which the lives of literary men teach us is 
told in a single word, — Wait ! Every man must pa- 
tiently bide his time. He must wait. More particularly 
in lands like my native land, where the pulse of life beats 
with such feverish and impatient throbs, is the lesson 
needful. Our national character wants the dignity of 
repose. We seem to live in the midst of a battle, — 
there is such a din, such a hurrying to and fro. In the 
streets of a crowded city it is difficult to walk slowly. 



232 HENEY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

You feel the rushing of the crowd, and rush with it on- 
ward. In the press of our life it is difficult to be calm. 
In this stress of wind and tide, all professions seem to 
drag their anchors, and are swept out into the main. 
The voices of the Present say, "Come!" But the 
voices of the Past say, "Wait!" With calm and sol- 
emn footsteps the rising tide bears against the rushing 
torrent up stream, and pushes back the hurrying waters. 
AVith no less calm and solemn footsteps, nor less cer- 
tainty, does a great mind bear up against public opinion, 
and push back its hurrying stream. Therefore should 
every man wait, — should bide his time ; not in listless 
idleness, not in useless pastime, not iu querulous dejec- 
tion, but in constant, steady, cheerful endeavors, always 
willing and fulfilling, and accomplishing his task, that, 
when the occasion comes, he may be equal to the occa- 
sion. And, if it never comes, what matters it? What 
matters it to the world whether I or you or another man 
did such a deed, or wrote such a book, so be it the deed 
and book were well done? It is the part of an indiscreet 
and troublesome ambition to care too much about fame, 
— about what the world says of us, to be always looking 
into the faces of others for approval, to be always anx- 
ious for the effect of what we do and say, to be alwaj^s 
shouting to hear the echo of our own voices. If you look 
about you, you will see men who are wearing life away in 
feverish anxiety of fame ; and the last we shall ever hear 
of them will be the funeral bell that tolls them to their 
early graves ! Unhappy men, and unsuccessful ! because 
their purpose is, not to accomplish well their task, but to 
clutch the "trick and fantasy of fame;" and they go 
to their graves with purposes unaccomplished and wishes 
unfulfilled. Better for them, and for the world in their 
example, had they known how to wait ! Believe me, the 



"UYPEUION" and "voices of the JSIGHT." 233 

talent of success is nothing more than doing what you can 
do well, and doing well whatever you do, without a 
thought of fame. If it come at all, it will come because 
it is deserved, not because it is sought after. And, more- 
over, there will be no misgivings, no disappointment, no 
hasty, feverish, exhausting excitement.' " 

The winter has passed pleasantly by, and spring 
has come. The two friends hold numerous con- 
versations, and discuss many questions of literary 
criticism. Then they make another journey together, 
visiting Frankfort, the birthplace of Goethe. In 
midsummer they part company. 

The next chapters give us descriptions of new 
scenery. Paul Flemming is travelling in Switzer- 
land ; and at Interlachen he meets a former travel- 
ling companion, lounging in the hotel. 

' ' On the sofa sat a gentleman reading, — a stout gentle- 
man of perhaps forty-five, round, ruddy, and with a head 
which, being a little bald on the top, looked not unlike a 
crow's nest with one egg in it. A good-humored face 
turned from the book as Flemming entered, and a good- 
humored voice exclaimed, — 

" ' Ha, Mr. Flemming ! Is it you, or your apparition? 
I told you we should meet again, though you were for 
taking an eternal farewell of your fellow-traveller.' 

" Saying these words, the stout gentleman rose, and 
shook Flemming heartily by the hand. And Flemming 
returned the shake as heartily, recognizing in this ruddy 
personage a former travelling-companion, Mr. Berkley, 
whom he had left, a week or two previous, toiling up the 
Righi. Mr. Berkley was an Englishman of fortune, — a 
good-humored, humane old bachelor, remarkable alike 



234 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

for his common sense and his eccentricity. That is to 
say, the basis of his character was good, sound, common 
sense, trodden down and smoothed by education ; but 
this level groundwork his strange and whimsical fancy 
used as a dancing-floor whereon to exhibit her eccentric 
tricks. His ruling passion was cold bathing ; and he 
usually ate his breakfast sitting in a tub of cold water, 
and reading a newspaper. He kissed every child he met, 
and to every old man said, in passing, ' God bless you ! ' 
with such an expression of voice and countenance, that 
no one could doubt his sincerity. He reminded one of 
Roger Bontemps, or the Little Man in Gray, though with 
a difference." 

While they are conversing, a female figure, clothed 
in black, enters the room, and sits down by the v^^in- 
dow. Flemming cannot help admiring her, inquires 
of his friend her name, and is told that it is Mary 
Ashburton, " the daughter of an English officer who 
died not long ago at Naples." She is the heroine, 
and in the next chapter we become better acquainted 
with her. 

' ' Mary Ashburton was in her twentieth summer. Like 
the fair maiden Amoret, she was sitting in the lap of 
womanhood. They did her wrong who said she was not 
beautiful ; and yet — 

" ' She was not fair, 
Nor beautiful: those words express her not. 
But oh, her looks had something excellent, 
That wants a name! ' 

' ' Her face had a wonderful fascination in it. It was 
such a calm, quiet face, with the light of the rising soul 



" HYPERION " AND " VOICES OF THE NIGHT." 235 

shining so peacefully through it. At times it wore an 
expression of seriousness, — of sorrow even, — and then 
seemed to make the very air bright with what the Italian 
poets so beautifully call the lamj^eggiar dell' angelico riso, 
the lightning of the angelic smile. 

"And oh, those eyes! those deep, unutterable eyes, 
with ' down-falling eyelids full of dreams and slumber, ' 




Mary Ashburton. 

and within them a cold, living light, as in mountain lakes 
at evening, or in the river of Paradise, forever gliding, — 

" ' With a brown, brown current, 
Under the shade perpetual, that never 
Kay of the sun lets in, nor of the moon.' 

' ' I dislike an eye that twinkles like a star. Those 
only are beautiful which, like the planets, have a steady, 
lambent light, — are luminous, but not sparkling. Such 
eyes the Greek poets give to immortals. 



236 HENKY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

"The lady's figure was striking. Every step, every 
attitude, was graceful, and yet lofty, as if inspired by the 
soul within. Angels in the old poetic philosophy have 
such forms : it was the soul itself imprinted on the air. 
And what a soul was hers ! A temple dedicated to 
heaven, and, like the Pantheon at Rome, lighted only 
from above. And earthly passions in the form of gods 
were no longer there, but the sweet and thoughtful faces 
of Christ and the Virgin Mary and the saints. Thus 
there was not one discordant thing in her, but a perfect 
harmony of figure and face and soul, — in a word, of the 
whole being. And he who had a soul to comprehend hers 
must of necessity love her, and, having once loved her, 
could love no other woman forevermore. 

" No wonder, then, that Flemming felt his heart drawn 
towards her, as, in her morning walk, she passed him, 
sitting alone under the great walnut-trees near the cloister, 
and thinking of heaven, not of her. She, too, was alone. 
Her cheek was no longer pale, but glowing and bright, 
with the inspiration of the summer air. Flemming gazed 
after her till she disappeai-ed, even as a vision of his 
dreams, he knew not whither. He was not yet in love, 
but very near it ; for he thanked God that he had made 
such beautiful beings to walk the earth." 

' In the following chapters is told the tale of the 
hero's love for Miss Ashburton. There are no com- 
monplace incidents, no domestic entanglements, none 
of the apparatus of our modern uovels. On the con- 
trary, it is a simple delineation of delicate and high- 
wrought passion, cherished among the sublimest 
scenes in nature, and leading to a melancholy con- 
clusion, in perfect harmony with the general tone of 



"HYPERION" AND "VOICES OF THE NICHT." 237 

the book. Tlie scene in Avhicli Paul Flemniing de- 
clares his love and is rejected is highly poetic, and 
worthy of re])rodnction : — 







Burg Unspunnen. 



" Thej' were sitting together one morning on the green, 
flowery meadow, under the ruins of Burg Unspunnen. 
She was sketching the ruins. The birds were singing, 
one and all, as if there were no achinsj hearts, no sin nor 



238 HENEY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

sorrow, in the world. So motionless was the bright air, 
that tlie shadow of the trees lay engraven on the grass. 
The distant snow-peaks sparkled in the sun ; and nothing 
frowned, save the square tower of the old ruin above them. 

" ' What a pity it is,' said the lady, as she stopped to 
rest her weary fingers, ' what a pity it is, that there is no 
old tradition connected with this ruin ! ' 

" ■ I will make you one, if you wish,' said Flemming. 

" ' Can you make old traditions? ' 

" ' Oh, yes ! I made three, the other day, about the 
Rhine, and one very old one about the Black Forest. A lady 
with dishevelled hair, a robber with a horrible slouched 
hat, and a night storm among the roaring pines.' 

" ' Delightful ! Do make one for me.' 

"'With the gi-eatest pleasure. Where will you have 
the scene? Here, or in the Black Forest? ' 

" ' In the Black Forest, by all ipeans ! Begin.' 

" 'I will unite this ruin and the forest together. But 
first promise not to interrupt me. If you snap tlie golden 
threads of thought, they will float away on the air like the 
film of the gossamer ; and I shall never be able to recover 
them.' 

" 'I promise.' 

" ' Listen, then, to the tradition of " The Fountain of 
Oblivion." ' 

" 'Begin.' 

' ' Flemming was reclining on the flowery turf at the lady's 
feet, looking up with dreamy eyes into her sweet face, and 
then into the leaves of the linden-trees overhead. 

' ' ' Gentle lady, dost thou remember the linden-trees 
of Biilach, — those tall and stately trees, with velvet down 
upon their shining leaves, and rustic benches underneath 
their overhanging eaves ? A leafy dwelling, fit to be the 
home of elf or fairy, where first I told my love to thee, 



"HYPERION" AND "VOICES OP THE NIGHT." 239 

thou cold and stately Ilermione ! A little peasant-girl 
stood near, and listened all the while, with eyes of wonder 
and delight, and an unconscious smile, to hear the stranger 
still speak on, in accents deep yet mild, — none else was 
with us in that hour, save God and that little child ! ' 

" ' AVhy, it is in rhyme ! ' 

"'No, no! the rhyme is only in your imagination. 
You promised not to interrupt me, and you have already 
snapped asunder the gossamer threads of as sweet a dream 
as was ever spun from a poet's brain.' 

" ' It certainly did rhyme ! ' 

" ' This was the reverie of the student Hieronymus, as 
he sat at midnight in a chamber of this old tower, with 
his hands clasped together, and resting upon an open vol- 
ume, which he should have been reading. His pale face 
was raised, and the pupils of his eyes dilated, as if the 
spirit- world were open before him, and some beauteous 
vision were standing there, and drawing the student's soul 
through his eyes up into heaven, — as the evening sun, 
through parting summer clouds, seems to draw into its 
bosom the vapors of the earth. Oh, it was a lovely vision ! 
I can see it before me now ! 

" ' Near the student stood an antique bronze lamp, with 
strange figures carved upon it. It was a magic lamp, 
which once belonged to the Arabian astrologer El Geber, 
in Spain. Its light was beautiful as the light of stars ; 
and night after night, as the lonely wight sat alone and 
read in this lofty tower, through the mist and murk and 
dropping rain it streamed out into the darkness, and was 
seen by many wakeful eyes. To the poor student Hie- 
ronymus it was a wonderful Aladdin's Lamp ; for in its 
flame a Divinitj' revealed herself unto him, and showed 
him treasures. Whenever he opened a ponderous, anti- 
quated tome, it seemed as if some angel opened for him 



240 HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

the gates of Paradise ; and already he was known in the 
land as Hieronymus the Learned. 

" ' But, alas ! he could read no more. The charm was 
broken. Hour after hour he passed with his hands clasped 
before him, and his fair eyes gazing at vacancy. What 
could so disturb the studies of this melancholy wight? 
Lady, he was in love ! Have you ever been in love ? He 
had seen the face of the beautiful Hermione ; and as, 
when we have thoughtlessly looked at the sun, our dazzled 
eyes, though closed, behold it still ; so he beheld by day 
and by night the radiant image of her ujjon whom he had 
too rashly gazed. Alas ! he was unhappy ; for the proud 
Hermione disdained the love of a poor student, whose only 
wealth was a magic lamp. In marble halls, and amid the 
gay crowd that worshipped her, she had almost forgotten 
that such a being lived as the student Hieronymus. The 
adoration of his heart had been to her only as the perfume 
of a wild-flower which she had carelessly crushed with her 
foot in passing. But he had lost all, for he had lost the 
quiet of his thoughts ; and his agitated soul reflected only 
broken and distorted images of things. The world laughed 
at the poor student, who, in his threadbare cassock, dared 
to lift his eyes to the lady Hermione ; while he sat alone 
in his desolate chamber, and suffered in silence. He 
remembered many things which he would fain have for- 
gotten, but which, if he had forgotten them, he would 
have wished again to remember. Such were the linden- 
trees of Biilach, under whose pleasant shades he had told 
his love to Hermione. This was the scene which he wished 
most to forget, yet loved most to remember ; and of this 
he was now dreaming, with his hands clasped upon his 
book, and that music in his thoughts, which you, lady, 
mistook for rhyme. 

" ' Suddenly, with a melancholy clang, the convent 



"HYPERION" AND "VOICES OF THE NIGHT." 241 

clock struck twelve. It roused the student Hieronj'mus 
from his dream, and rang in his ears, like the iron hoofs- 
of the steeds of time. The magic hour had come when 
the Divinity of the lamp most willingly revealed herself 
to her votary. The bronze figures seemed alive ; a white 
cloud rose from the flame, and spread itself through the 
chamber ; the four walls dilated into magnificent cloud- 
vistas ; a fragrance, as of wild-flowers, filled the air ; and 
a dreamy music, like distant, sweet-chiming bells, an- 
nounced the approach of the midnight Divinity. Through 
his streaming tears the heart-broken student beheld her 
once more descending a pass in the snowy cloud-mountains, 
as, at evening, the dewy Hesperus comes from the bosom 
of the mist, and assumes his station in the sky. At her 
approach, his spirit grew more calm ; for her presence 
was, to his feverish heart, like a tropical night, — beauti- 
ful and soothing and invigorating. At length she stood 
before him, revealed in all her beauty ; and he compre- 
hended the visible language of her sweet but silent lips, 
which seemed to say, " What would the student Hierony- 
mus to-night?" — "Peace!" he answered, raising his- 
clasped hands, and smiling through his tears. " The stu- 
dent Hieronymus imploreth peace ! " — " Then go," said 
the spirit, "go to the Fountain of Oblivion in the deepest 
solitude of the Black Forest, and cast this scroll into its 
waters ; and thou shalt be at peace once more." Hierony- 
mus opened his arms to embrace the Divinity, for her 
countenance assumed the features of Hermione ; but she 
vanished away, the music ceased, the gorgeous cloud-land 
sank and fell asunder, and the student was alone within 
the four bare walls of his chamber. As he bowed his head 
downward, his eye fell upon a parchment scroll, which was 
lying beside the lamp. Upon it was written only the name 
of Hermione ! 



242 HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

' ' ' The next morning Hieronymus put the scroll into 
his hosom, and went his way in search of the Fountain of 
Oblivion. A few days brought him to the skirts of the 
Black Forest. He entered, not without a feeling of dread, 
that land of shadows, and passed onward, under melan- 
choly pines and cedars, whose branches grew abroad and 
mingled together, and, as they swayed up and down, filled 
the air with solemn twilight and a sound of sorrow. As 
he advanced into the forest, the waving moss hung, like 
curtains, from the branches overhead, and more and more 
shut out the light of heaven ; and he knew that the Foun- 
tain of Oblivion was not far off. Even then the sound of 
falling waters was mingling with the roar of the pines 
above him ; and ere long he came to a river, moving in 
solemn majesty through the forest, and falling with a dull, 
leaden sound into a motionless and stagnant lake, above 
which the branches of the foi'est met and mingled, form- 
ing perpetual night. This was the fountain of Oblivion. 

" ' Upon its brink the student paused, and gazed into 
the dark waters with a steadfast look. They were limpid 
waters, dark with shadows only. And, as he gazed, he 
beheld, far down in their silent depths, dim and ill-defined 
outlines, wavering to and fro, like the folds of a white 
garment in the twilight. Then more distinct and perma- 
nent shapes arose, — shapes familiar to his mind, yet for- 
gotten and remembered again, as the fragments of a 
dream ; till at length, far, far below him, he beheld the 
great City of the Past, with silent marble streets, and 
moss-grown walls, and spires uprising with a wave-like, 
flickering motion. 

" ' And amid the crowd that thronged those streets, he 
beheld faces once familiar and dear to him, and heard 
sorrowful, sweet voices singiug, oh, forget us not ! forget 
us not ! and then the distant, mournful sound of funeral 



" HYPERION " AND " VOICES OF THE NIGHT." 243 

bells, that were tolling below, in the City of tlie Past. 
But, in the gardens of that city, there were children play- 
ing, and among them one who wore his features, as they 
had been in childhood. He was leading a little girl by 
the hand, and caressed her often, and adorned her with 
flowers. Then, like a dream, the scene changed, and the 
boy had grown older, and stood alone, gazing into the sky ; 
and, as he gazed, his countenance changed again : and Hie- 
ronymus beheld him, as if it had been his own image in 
the clear water ; and before him stood a beauteous maiden, 
whose face was like the face of Hermione : and he feared 
lest the scroll had fallen into the water, as he bent over 
it. 

" ' Starting, as from a dream, he put his hand into his 
bosom, and breathed freely again when he found the 
scroll still there. He drew it forth, and read the blessed 
name of Hermione ; and the city beneath him vanished 
away, and the air grew fragrant as with the breath of 
May-flowers, and a light streamed through the shadowy 
forest, and gleamed upon the lake : and the student Hie- 
ronymus pressed the dear name to his lips, and exclaimed, 
with streaming eyes, " Oh, scorn me as thou wilt, still, 
still will I love thee ; and thy name shall irradiate the 
gloom of my life, and make the waters of Oblivion smile ! " 
And the name was no longer Hermione, but was changed 
to Mary ; and the student Hieronymus — is lying at yom* 
feet ! O gentle lady, 

' " I did hear you talk 
Far above singing: after you were gone, 
I grew acquainted with my heart, and searched 
What stirred it so! Alas! I found it love." ' " 

After the love passages, Flemming is taken sick 
with a fever and is nursed by his English friend. At 



24:4: HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

length he recovers ; and, after farther loiterings, he 
returns home to America. 

Notwithstanding a certain crudeness of quality 
and a turgidness of style which were singularly 
absent from Mr. Longfellow's poetry at the same 
period, " Hyperion " was extremelj" popular ; and up 
to 1 857 nearly fifteen thousand copies had been sold 
in America. There is no doubt that it did great 
service in its day, and shared with Carlyle's essays 
the merit of directing the attention of English-speak- 
ing people to the wealth of German literature. Even 
at this day " Hyperion " is regarded by many toiu'- 
ists as the best guide to Heidelberg and the Rhine 
region. 

In July, 1852, Mr. Birket Foster and a party of 
friends undertook a Continental trip, with the view 
of following in the footsteps of the hero of " H}^pe- 
rion," and of delineating with scrupulous exactness 
the various scenes amid which its vivid incidents are 
laid. Certain incidents of this tour are worthy of 
recount. The party found that the landlord of the 
hotel (the Lily) at Andernach, where Longfellow 
stopped, still remembered the poet's visit with per- 
fect distinctness. At Heidelberg, the house near the 
Carls Thor, where the poet resided, was visited ; also, 
at Frankfort, Goethe's house, No. 74, in the Hirsch 
Graben, was carefully explored. The room in whicli 
Goethe was born was exhibited ; also the visitors' 
book, in which was the autograph of Longfellow, 
which must have been added, however, at a subse- 
quent visit, in 1843. At the hotel at Interlachen, 
the landlord did not remember Longfellow ; but it 



"HYPERION" AND "VOICES OF THE NIGHT." 245 

afterwards appeared that he had been proprietor of 
the house only three or four years. The tourists 
found that the poet's description of St. Gilgen and 
the adjacent pUtces were minutely exact ; and, on the 
evening" of their arrival at the inn, they were lodged 
in the large room indicated by Longfellow as his 
apartment, — the windows of which were still lat- 
ticed, with the flowers as usual on the window-sills 
and on the table. Franz Schondorfer, the proprietor, 
and his wife, were of course verging on a green old 
age. When his name was pointed out to hun in a 
copy of "Hyperion," the old man surveyed it 
through his spectacles with undisguised delight, 
and, pressing his finger against his breast, said 
proudly, " Franz Schondorfer ! that's me ! that's 
me!" 

The little chapel of St. Gilgen, which contains the 
singular inscription that forms, as it were, the text 
upon which the romance of " Hyperion " was written, 
still stands on the south side of the churchyard. The 
inscription itself is on the eastern wall, and the last 
part of it reads thus : — 

" Blicke nicht trauer'nd in die Vergangenheit, 
Sie komt nicht wieder ; niitze Weisse die Gegenwart, 
Sie ist dein ; der diistern Zukunft gelie ohne 
Furclit mit niiinnlichen Sinne entgegen." 

Or, when translated, — 

" Look not mournfully into the Past. It comes 
Not back again. Wisely improve the present. 
It is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy 
Future without fear, and with a manly heart." 



246 HENliY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

The tourists were absent from London about six 
weeks; and during that time they became thoroughly 
familiarized with every page of " Hyperion," — "a 
noble work," as they assert, " on which its author 
might be well content to rest his hope of future 




Chapel of St. Gilgen, 

fame, even if he could not proudly point to innumer- 
able other examples of his genius, that will perish 
only with the language in which his thoughts have 
found expression." 

It was in the year 1834 that Longfellow sent his 
first contribution to " The Knickerbocker." In May 
of that year appeared the first instalment of what 



"HYPERION" AND "VOICES OF THE NIGHT." 247 

promised to be a serial publication, entitled " The 
Blank-Book of a Country Schoolmaster." The work 
is little more than a series of supposed excerpts from a 
teacher's Journal ; and, in the first number, there are 
six of these, headed respectively, " Saturday After- 
noon," " An Old Saying," " A Passage from Dante," 
" The Happy Man and the Lucky Dog," " Midnight 
Devotion," and " Intellect." As a specimen of the 
manner and style which pervade the whole produc- 
tion, I here reprint the following : — 

" It is Saturday afternoon. Once more the school- 
house door has creaked upon its hebdomadal hinges ; 
the dog-eared book yawns upon the deserted desk ; 
the flies are buzzing and bumping their heads 
against the sunny window ; the schoolboy is abroad 
in the woods ; and the schoolmaster has laid his 
birchen sceptre upon the shelf, and with it the cares 
and solicitudes of another week. 

" Saturday afternoon ! delightful season, when the 
mind, like a tired artisan, lays down his implements 
of toil, and leaves the long-accustomed handicraft! 
How sweet, amid the busy avocations of the week, to 
look forward to this short interval of repose, when, 
for a time at least, the grinding shall cease, and the 
heart be permitted to indulge its secret longings, and 
listen to the soft whispers of its own wayward fan- 
cies ! Surely the feelings of the schoolboy linger 
around me still. I love the dolcefar niente of Satur- 
day afternoon ! 

" It is an interlude between the swift-succeeding 
acts of life ; the close of a seven days' journey ; a 
golden clasp that shuts each weekly volume of our 



248 HENEY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

history ; a goal where time pauses to rest his wing 
and turn his glass ; a type of that longer interval of 
rest, when our evening sun shall be going down, 
when our lengthening shadows shall point towards 
morning, and we shall be looking forward to an eter- 
nal sabbath ! " 

The second instalment of " The Blank-Book " was 
published in the September number of the magazine. 
It was made up of short articles on the following 
subjects : " Imitation," "An Obituary," " A Cure for 
Celibacy," " The Christian Fathers," " Plagiarists," 
"Poetry," and "Where is Peter Grimm?" The 
last named contains the author's version of an 
old German song, " The Song of the Rhine," begin- 
ning,— 

" Forth rolled the Rhine-stream strong and deep, 
Beneath Helvetia's Alpine steep, 
And joined in youthful company, 
Its fellow-travellers to the sea," etc. 

I may remark, in passing, that the December num- 
ber of the magazine contained a humorous sketch, in 
the form of a story, entitled " The Set of China ; " 
also an extract from an unpublished poem, entitled 
" The Dead," — both of them by Longfellow. The 
extract is here given entire : — 

" The spirits of the loved and the departed 
Are with us, and they tell us of the sky, — 
A rest for the bereaved and broken-hearted, 

A house not made with hands, a home on high ; 
Holy monitions — a mysterious breath — 
A whisper from the marble halls of death. 



" HYPEKION " AND " VOICES OF THE NIGHT." 249 

They have gone from us, and the grave is strong : 
Yet ill night's silent watches they are near ; 

Their voices linger round us, as the song 
Of the sweet sky-lark lingers on the ear, 

When floating upward, in the flush of even. 

Its form is lost from earth, and swallowed up in heaven." 

"Knickerbocker" for January, 1835, contained 
No. 3 of " The Blank-Book." In it were the follow- 
ing headings : " History," " A Wise Saw," " Au- 
tumn," and " The Death of the Young." Here the 
serial ended, cut short probably by the author's 
rather sudden departure for Europe. However, in 
the same issue of the magazine appeared an article 
on " The Rosicrucian Philosophy," written by Long- 
fellow, also another unfinished poetic fragment en- 
titled " The Soul." The June number contained a 
poem of sixty-three lines, entitled "Apostrophe to 
Time," which was written by Mr. Longfellow in the 
preceding month of May, at the time of his visit at 
the home of Shakspeare. 

During his absence abroad Mr. Longfellow con- 
tributed nothing to the magazine, with the single ex- 
ception of the poem last mentioned. On his return 
home, however, he again took up the pen in its be- 
half. In December, 1837, there appeared in the 
pages of " Knickerbocker " a poem entitled " Floral 
Astrology," beginning, — 

" Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, 
One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, 
When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, 
Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine." 



250 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

This poem is the first one, I believe, which was pub- 
licly acknowledged by its author. It is signed, 
"Cambridge University, H. W. Longfellow." All 
of the earlier poems and translations, also all the 
prose articles, by the same writer, either bore the 
simple signature " H. W. L.," or " L," or nothing 
whatsoever. 

Through the years 1838 and 1839 Mr. Longfellow 
wrote several poems, and published them in " The 
Knickerbocker Magazine." Of these I purpose to 
speak presently. 

Late in the autumn of 1839 Mr. Longfellow pub- 
lished his first volume of poems, under the general 
title of the " Voices of the Night." In this little 
book of one hundred and forty-four pages he in- 
cluded seven of his earlier pieces, which appeared 
first in " The United-States Literary Gazette ; " 
twenty-three translations, a few of which had already 
been printed, either in " The Knickerbocker " or in 
" The North American Review;" and eight poems of 
later date, of which six had appeared in " The Knick- 
erbocker," together with a poetic prelude. The vol- 
ume was brought out at Cambridge by Mr. John 
Owen ; and the following was the title-page : " Voices 
of the Night. By H. W. Longfellow. Cambridge : 
published by John Owen. 1839." It comprised, as 
before stated, one hundred and forty-four pages, and 
the size was a sixteen mo. Like many other publica- 
tions of that day, the book was bound in a light 
cream-colored flexible paper cover, decorated with 
elaborate colored designs. On the front cover was a 
landscape scene by night, half concealed by a drawn 



"hvpkuion" and "voices of the night." 251 

curtain. As a whole, the general style and make-up 
of the b()(tk was unique, and, when looked upon to- 
day, is indeed a great curiosity. 

Mr. Owen's recollections of the publication of the 
work are interesting ; and I will now give them in his 
own words, as repeated to me : — 

" At the time when I published ' Voices of the 
Night,' I had been carrying on the book-business 
alone for nearly three years. But I had been en- 
gaged in the business since 1834 or thereabouts. 
During the years following Mr. Longfellow's arrival 
in Cambridge, the poet — "the Professor" we called 
him then — used often to drop into the store ; indeed, 
I think I saw him about every day. When, in 1837, 
he went to live in the Craigie House, I frequently 
called upon him there, especially in the evening. 
When Longfellow first came to Cambridge in 1835, 
I believe that I was the one whom he sought first. 
He told me that he had been invited to take Pro- 
fessor Ticknor's place in the college, and that he 
had virtually accepted, and was now about to 
make another trip to Europe. It was a bitter cold 
day, as I well remember, when we walked over into 
the College Square. We were just nearing old 
' Massachusetts Hall,' when we met Felton, to whom 
I introduced my old friend and schoolmate. They 
became sociable at once : Longfellow was invited by 
Felton to call upon him before he should leave Cam- 
bridge. In a day or so afterwards Longfellow 
called ; and there he first saw and became acquainted 
with Sumner, who was a great favorite of Felton's, 
and was practising law in Boston. 



252 HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

" Well, now, to go back to the book. Longfellow 
returned from Europe in 1837, and in the same year 
Sumner went to Europe. Longfellow began writing 
poetry again, and sent a number of pieces off to New 
York to be published. The ' Psalm of Life ' came 
out in the fall of 1838, and was copied extensively 
throughout the country, without any name attached, 
however; for no one, except the editors of the maga- 
zine in which it was published and a few of the 
poet's personal friends, knew who wrote it. After 
that, other poems by Longfellow appeared in the 
periodical; and they, too, were copied into many 
newspapers. Along in the summer of 1839, — I 
think it was just after Commencement, — I asked Mr. 
Longfellow why he did not reprint his poems in a 
volume, and suggested to him that it was then about 
time to acknowledge the authorship of them. He 
replied that he would think the matter over, and let 
me know further. One night, when the harvest 
moon never shone brighter, we were sitting looking 
out of the window at his room in the Craigie House : 
the subject of the book came up again ; and he told 
me, that, if he could find a publisher, he would pre- 
pare the volume for the press. I suggested to him 
that I would like to be his publisher, to which he 
assented. 

" In due time he brought me ' copy ' for the book, 
which ' copy ' included all of the later poems and 
several translations. At Felton's suggestion, he 
agreed to include also a few of his earlier poems ; 
and it took him quite a while to decide which ones 
to choose. The terms of publication had already 



"HYPERION" AND "VOICES OF THE NIGHT." 253 

been agreed upon. When it came to setting up the 
title-page, Mr. Longfellow, at the last moment, re- 
fused to allow his name to go on. I objected to this 
turn of mind, and appealed to his friends. After a 
little delay, he came in one morning, and quietly but 
abruptly told me to go ahead in my own way ; 
which I did by printing his name on the title. The 
book came out at last. I don't believe he ever re- 
gretted following my advice. I have often remarked 
to him since, that, if he had insisted upon the book 
being issued anonymously, he would have thrown 
away the best opportunity a man ever had of making 
a reputation. The ' Psalm of Life ' would have been 
admired none the less, but the author of it would 
have had but little of the credit that was his due. 
The ' Voices of the Night ' was of course a success. 
When Sumner came home from Europe, early the 
next year, we all had a ' little time ' celebrating the 
hon voyage of the book. But I shall tell you nothing 
about that." 

In the collected edition of the poet's works, as 
indeed in the original volume, the " Voices of the 
Night " includes the following poems : " Prelude," 
"Hymn to the Night," "A Psalm of Life," "The 
Reaper and the Flowers," " The Light of Stars," 
" Footsteps of Angels," " Flowers," " The Beleaguered 
City," and " Midnight Mass for the Dying Year." I 
will now speak of these in the order of their first 
appearance in print. The earlier poems and trans- 
lations will not be referred to further. 

The poem that bears the name " Flowers " was 
identical with "Floral Astrology," published in "The 



254 HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

Knickerbocker " in December, 1837. " The ideas ex- 
pressed in the poem," said the poet to me one day, 
" were suggested to me while I was in Europe, after 
I had been reading a very curious German book. 
My knowledge of flowers and of the science of bot- 
any is very crude : I admire them, without troubling 
myself about their names." 

The never-to-be-forgotten " Psalm of Life," signed 
" L.," was first printed in " The Knickerbocker " in 
September, 1838. 

" After I had translated ' Coplas de Manrique,' " 
said the poet, " my mind was haunted for a long 
time with gloomy thoughts. I seemed to have 
a perfect fear of death. With the lesson of later 
years came also a re-action. Came suddenly the 
feelings which I tried to express in the ' Psahn of 
Life.' It was written in my chamber, as I sat look- 
ing out at the morning sun, admiring the beauty of 
God's creations and the excellence of his plan. The 
poem was not printed until some months later, and 
even then with reluctance." 

It is not too much to affirm that this little song of 
life is perhaps the most famous of the productions 
of its distinguished author. Few poems have been 
oftener committed to memory, or have penetrated 
deeper into the human heart. The poet often told 
the following incident : he was once riding through 
one of the streets of London, when a laboring-man 
came up to the carriage, and inquired, " Are you the 
writer of the ' Psalm of Life ' ? " He replied that he 
was. " Will you allow me to take you by the 
hand ? " The two shook hands, and the carriage 



" HYPERION " AND " VOICES OF THE NIGHT." 255 

was driven on. " That compliment," said Mr. Long- 
fellow, " gave me more happiness than any I have 
ever received." 

In a letter dated " 15th of October, 1842," and ad- 
dressed by Sumner to Longfellow, while the latter 
was in Europe, occurs t!ie following: — 

" A few days ago an old classmate, upon whom 
the world had not smiled, came to my office to prove 
some debts before me in bankruptcy. While writing 
the formal parts of the paper, I inquired about his 
reading, and the books which interested him now. 
I believe he has been a great reader. He said that 
he read very little ; that he hardly found any thing 
which was written from the heart, and was really 
true. ' Have you read Longfellow's " Hyperion " ? ' 
I said. ' Yes,' he replied, ' and I admire it very 
much : I think it a very great book.' He then added 
in a very solemn manner, ' I think I may say that 
Longfellow's " Psalm of Life " saved me from sui- 
cide. I first found it on a scrap of newspaper, in the 
hands of two Irishwomen, soiled and worn ; and I 
was at once touched by it." Think, my dear friend, 
of this soul into which you have poured the waters 
of life. Such a tribute is higher than the words of 
Rogers, much as I value them." 

The sweet poem bearing the title of " The Reaper 
and the Flowers " was originally published in " The 
Knickerbocker," in January, 1839, under the name 
of " A Psalm of Death." It was signed " L." In 
the same number appeared " A Second Psalm of 
Life," now familiar as ''• The Light of Stars: " it was 
signed ^ L." Mr. Fields states that " The Reaper 



256 HENEY WADSWOKTH LONGB^ELLOW. 

and the Flowers " came without effort, crystallized 
into the poet's mind ; and that " The Light of Stars " 
waa composed on a serene and beautiful summer 
evening, exactly suggestive of the poem. 

In May, 1839, appeared in " The Knickerbocker " 
" Voices of the Night," a third psalm of life. It be- 
gan, — 

" When the hours of day are numbered, 
And the voices of the night 
Wake the better soul, that slumbered, 
To a holy, calm delight," etc. 

Most people will recognize these lines as being those 
of the opening stanza of the " Footsteps of Angels," 
the title finally selected by the poet. The origin of 
the poem may be easily surmised. I refrain from re- 
peating it as it was told to me by Mr. Longfellow. 

"The Fifth Psalm" was first printed in "The 
Knickerbocker " in October, 1839. It now bears the 
title of a " Midnight Mass for the Dying Year," and 
opens with the lines, — 

" Yes, the year is growing old, 

And his eye is pale and bleared : 
Death, with frosty hand and cold, 
Plucks the old man by the beard, 
Sorely, sorely ! " 

" The original draught of this poem," said Mr. Long- 
fellow, " was written in Heidelberg. I re-wrote it 
afterwards, making many changes. It came to me 
naturally." 

In the November number of the magazine, a cap- 
tious critic raised the following question. He wrote, 



c^ 









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5 ^ 



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■—-t ><*«• 



if- 









'^'^ sl^t-*. "^UJ ltJy>-v«- 55. 'Ml'*- <3-^ 



1 



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T. 

1— {i CY<'v>-v.>-v 



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Qh^— 



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>-«. o.,-^ dk.^ 




t '■ ti ^ V .u.. ,^ 



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tfST*^* 






" HYPERION '' AND " VOICES OF THE NIGHT." 257 

" The October number of ' The Knickerbocker,' al- 
though received rather late, has been devoured most 
greedily by our literary gourmands. The German- 
like solemnity and wildness of Professor Longfellow's 
fifth psalm is incomparable. Could Goethe or Schil- 
ler be privileged to read it once, I think they would 
read it again. However, some few of Mr. Longfel- 
low's admirers are sadly puzzled, or, to say the least, 
suspicious of their knowledge, in relation to the 
' wind Euroclydou ! ' ' The euphony of the stanza is 
capital,' say they; 'but Euroclydon ! what in the name 
of Boreas does it on the coast of Labrador? ' Gentle- 
men, poetry licenses a wind to blow where it listeth ! 
' Out on your licenses ! ' say they : the ' Euroclydon 
is a bilious nor'easter, and bloweth only in the Med- 
iterranean.' I beg to be informed." 

In the next issue a southern correspondent came 
to the rescue, and defended the poet with all the 
chivalry of true scholarship. He said, "What makes 
your friend imagine that this wind blows only in the 
Mediterranean ? Because it was first called ' Euro- 
clydon ' in those regions ? The same may be said of 
Boreas and sirocco. No : the word indicates a north- 
east wind, coming over the sea. Look into any good 
Greek lexicon, and you will fi-nd some such defini- 
tion. The only place in which I have ever seen the 
word used before, is in Paul's shipwreck, in the 
Acts. Just consult Robinson's Greek and English 
lexicon of the New Testament: EvqoxXvScop, Eurocly- 
don, a tempestuous wind ; Acts xxvii. 14 ; from EvfjOi,', 
eurus, east wind, and xXvdmri, a wave.' Passow, a 
great aiithoritv, defines it, ' A violent storm-wind. 



258 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

which throws up the waves of the sea.' I could give 
some dozen authorities, were it necessary. You may 
rely upon it, Professor Longfellow knew what he was 
saying when he used the word." ^ 

Of the remaining poems which were included in 
the " Voices of the Night," it is unnecessary here to 
speak. " That little volume," says Professor Ever- 
ett, " formed an epoch in our history. It breathed 
his — Longfellow's — whole spirit, his energy, his 
courage, his tenderness, his faith : it formed the prel- 
ude of all that should come after." " I would rather 
be the author," wrote Sumner to his friend. Dr. Lie- 
ber, "of 'A Psalm of Life,' ' The Light of Stars,' 
' The Reaper and the Flowers,' and ' Excelsior,' than 
those rich pieces of Gray. I think Longfellow Avith- 
out rival near his throne in America. I might go 
farther ; I doubt if there is aiiy poet now alive, and 
not older than he, who has written so much and so 
well." 

1 According to the Greek-English lexicon of Liddell and Scott. 
" the word Earodydon seems to mean a storm from the east : but 
the readings vary remarkably, and the most probable is eiipaKvAmv 
(Latin Vulgate Etiro-aqnilo), i.e., a north-east wind;" and this is 
adopted by Lachm; cf. eOpocoros. " It is now called Grer/alia, the 
most violent wind in the Mediterranean, usually blowing in th*? 
early spring." 



"BALLADS AMD OTKEU POEMS." 259 



CHAPTER X. 

"BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.' 

{184-0-1842.) 

IN " The North-American Review " for October, 
1840, appeared an article on " The French Lan- 
guage in England." In this paper Professor Long- 
fellow proposed to trace the history of the French 
language through the English statute-books, etc. 
He admits, at the start, that the theme is a barren 
one for most readers, but at the same time entreats 
them " not to turn away from these pages without 
first casting a glance at our illustrations. They are 
curious and amusing, and throw a gleam of light, 
now and then, upon the manners and customs of the 
past. On this account they will commend them- 
selves to the notice of those who care not for the 
curiosities of language." 

The great success which attended the publication 
of the " Voices of the Night " encouraged Professor 
Longfellow to continue his work in the realm of 
poetry. Li the autumn of 1841 he published " Bal- 
lads and other Poems," ^ one of the choicest volumes 
which he ever gave to the public, and the contents 

1 Ballads and other Poems, by Henry "Wadswortli Longfellow, 
author of Voices of the Night, Hyperion, etc. Cambridge: John 
Owen. [12mo, pp. 132.] 



260 



HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 



of which the memories of all readers of poetry invol- 
untarily retain. 

The .first piece in this volume was " The Skeleton 
in Armor," a most successful attempt to represent in 
English the spirit of the northern legend. "This 
ballad was suggested to me," said Professor Long- 
fellow, " while riding on the seashore at Newport. 




Round Tower, Newport, R.l 



A year or two previous a skeleton had been dug up 
at Fall River, clad in broken and corroded armor ; 
and the idea occurred to me of connecting it with the 
Round Tower at Newport, generally known hitherto 
as the Old Windmill, though now claimed by the 
Danes as a work of their early ancestorie;." 

Mr. Samuel Ward gives the following reminis- 



"BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS." 261 

cences of the poem, which, barring a single error, are 
important : — 

" I remember once his writing to me to come on 
next Sunday, as he had something to show me and 
to consult me about. I obeyed the call with alacrity, 
and reached the house, as usual, in season for a tub 
before breakfast. It was his habit, during the boiling 
of his coffee-kettle, to work, at a standing-desk, upon 
a translation of Dante. So soon as the kettle hissed, 
he folded his portfolio, not to resume that work until 
the following morning. In this wise, by devoting 
ten minutes a day during many years, the lovely 
work grew, like a coral reef, to its completion. On 
the morning of the day in question, however, that 
task was relinquished ; and, after breakfast, he told 
me that he had recently written a poem, which smiled 
to him, but which his habitual counsellors and com- 
panions — who I presume were Charles Sumner, C. C. 
Felton, and George S. Hillard — had frowned upon 
as beneath the plane of his previous lyrical perform- 
ances. He then proceeded to read me ' The Skeleton 
in Armor,' which so stirred my blood that I took the 
manuscript from his hands and read it to him, with 
more dramatic force than his modesty had permitted 
him to display. This may have been presumptuous 
on my part ; but I remember, when I came to the 
crescendo, — 



" ' As with his wings aslant, 
Sails the fierce cormorant, 
Seeking some rocky haunt. 
With his prey laden ; 



262 HENKY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

So toward the open main, 
Beating to sea again 
Through the wild hurricane, 
Bore I the maiden,' — 

he sprang to his feet and embraced me. The doubt- 
ing Thomases were at a discount that morning. This 
poem revealed to me his methods of work. After the 
emotions of mutual satisfaction had subsided, he told 
me that he had carried the scheme in his head ever 
since the previous summer, when, after having visited, 
with a cavalcade of my brothers and sisters, — among 
whom was the present Mrs. Julia Ward Howe, — the 
skeleton in armor, dug up at Taunton, and then 
visible in a museum at Fall River — since burned to 
the ground, — he challenged my sister, in their home 
gallop over the Newport beaches, to make a poem 
out of the rusty hauberk and grim bones they had 
been inspecting. ' That,' said he, ' was nearly a year 
ago ; and the poem only flashed upon me last week.' 
It will be remembered that the closing scene is laid 

" ' In that tower 

Which, to this very hour, 
Is looking seaward.' 

" And now comes a curious illustration of the 
market value of poetry past and present. I proposed 
to take the manuscript to New York, and sell it for 
not less than fifty dollars. On my return thither, 
my first visit was to the poet Halleck, at his desk in 
the dingy counting-house of the primeval elohn Jacob 
Astor, in Prince Street. We had often talked about 
Longfellow ; and Halleck felt and displayed a lively 



"BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS." 263 

appreciation of liis genius, which he denied to the 
English hiureate, wliom we all venerate. The old 
poet was delighted with this new effusion of his 
younger lyrical brother ; and, knowing the value of 
his opinion in the eyes of our literati, I asked him to 
express his admiration in a few brief words at the 
foot of the manuscript. If I remember rightly, 
the inscription ran, ' I unhesitatingly pronounce the 
above to be, in my opinion, Professor Longfellow's 
finest effort.' This was duly signed ; and I rushed 
down to Louis Gaylord Clarke, of ' The Knicker- 
bocker Magazine,' who stood aghast when I an- 
nounced the price of this poem, he having only paid 
twenty-five dollars for its predecessors. The intrin- 
sic beauty of the lyric, which by this time I had 
learned to read with tolerable effect, overcame a re- 
luctance to which his poverty, not his will, consented; 
and I had pride and pleasure in remitting the fifty 
dollars to Cambridge that evening." 

The poem was first given to the world in the pages 
of "The Knickerbocker," in its issue of January, 1841. 
There is a statement in the foregoing recollections 
of Mr. Ward's which does not tally with a remark 
made to me by the poet himself, and which is now 
recorded in my note-book. In answer to my inquiry, 
Mr. Longfellow stated that he was promised five 
dollars each for his contributions to " The Knicker- 
bocker ; " but that the sum-total received did not 
amount to that. He then added, " The brothers 
Clarke were noble fellows, and were struggling hard 
in those days for a livelihood. I have no reason to 
complain of what they did for me." 



264 HENEY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

As originally printed in the magazine, the poem 
was accompanied by a running commentary, which 
for some reason or other the poet saw fit to aban- 
don. 

The next poem in the volume was " The Wreck 
of the Hesperus," an admirable imitation of an old 
English ballad. The piece is of course familiar to 
most readers ; but I cannot forbear to quote the fol- 
lowing stanzas, which have surpassing descriptive 
beauty : — 

" Colder and louder blew the wind, 
A gale from the north-east, 
The snow fell hissing in the brine, 
And the billows frothed like yeast. 

Down came the storm, and smote amain 

The vessel in its strength : 
She shuddered and paused, like a frightened steed. 

Then leaped her cable's length. 

And fast through the midnight dark and drear, 
Through the whistling sleet and snow. 

Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept 
Towards the reef of Norman's Woe. 

And ever the fitful gusts between, 

A sound came from the land : 
It was the sound of the trampling surf 

On the rocks and the hard sea-sand. 

The breakers were right beneath her bows, 

She drifted a dreary wreck, 
And a whooping billow swept the crew 

Like icicles from her deck. ' 



" BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS." 265 

She struck where the white and fleecy waves 

Looked soft as carded wool ; 
But the cruel rocks, they gored her side 

Like the horns of an angry bull. 

Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, 

With the masts went by the board ; 
Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank, 

Ho ! ho ! the breakers roared ! 

Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, 

In the midnight and the snow ! 
Christ save us all from a death like this 

On the reef of Norman's Woe ! " 



" This is one of the poems," said Mr. Longfellow 
one day, "which I like to recall. It floats in my 
mind again and again, whenever I read of some of 
our frightful storms on the coast. Away back in 
the year when the ' Voices of the Night ' was pub- 
lished, in the closing month of the year, the New- 
England coast was lashed by a terrible tempest ; and 
there were numerous shipwrecks recorded. I re- 
member reading in the newspapers one day of the 
loss of a schooner on the reef of Norman's Woe, 
called ' The Hesperus.' Norman's Woe is, as you are 
aware, a frowning mass of rocks, surrounded by the 
ocean, not far from Gloucester. It occurred to me to 
write a ballad, which I did some days afterwards, 
while I was sitting alone one night by the fire in the 
room above. It required two sittings to complete it, 
both in the same night, however." 

The poem was sent to Mr. Park Benjamin, and by 
him was printed in " The New World," in January, 



266 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

1840. Mr. Longfello^y received twenty-five dollars 
for the production. 

" The Luck of Edenhall " is a translation from the 
German of Uhland, and " The Elected Knight " 
a translation from the Danish. The three maidens 
spoken of in the piece are supposed to be Faith, 
Hope, and Charity. Still another translation is " The 
Two Locks of Hair," one of the most exquisite things 
in the volume. 

Perhaps the most notable poem in the book is 
" Excelsior." One evening in the autumn of 1841, 
after he had been at a party, Mr. Longfellow caught 
sight of this word on a torn piece of newspaper. 
Thoughts seized upon his imagination, and the desire 
to write a poem became strong. Lying near was a 
letter from his friend Charles Sumner, which had 
been received that day. Without losing any time, 
he crowded the back of the letter with stanzas. 
Subsequently he re-wrote the poem, and published it 
in the perfected form which we read to-day. When 
Mr. Sumner again visited the Craigie House, the 
letter was shown to him. He requested its return, 
to which the poet assented. Mr. Sumner always 
preserved the document among his treasures ; and, 
after his lamented decease, it came by his bequest 
into the possession of Harvard College, and is now 
kept in the library. 

Longfellow's explanation of " Excelsior " is given 
in the following letter, addressed many years ago to 
Mr. H. T. Tuckerman. It was first published in 
" The London Telegraph." 

" I have had the pleasure of receiving your note in 



" BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS." 267 

regard to the poem ' Excelsior,' and very willingly 
give you my intention in writing it. This was no 
more than to display, in a series of pictures, the life 
of a man of genius, resisting all temptations, laying 
aside all fears, heedless of all warnings, and pressing 
right on to accomplish his purpose. His motto is 
' Excelsior,' — higher. He passes through the Al- 
pine village, through the rough, cold paths of the 
world, where the peasants cannot understand him, 
and where his watchword is ' an unknown tongue.' 
He disregards the happiness of domestic peace, and 
sees the glaciers — his fate — before him. He disre- 
gards the warnings of the old man's wisdom and the 
fascinations of woman's love. He answers to all, 
' Higher yet.' The monks of St. Bernard are the 
representatives of religious forms and ceremonies; 
and with their oft-repeated praj^er mingles the sound 
of his voice, telling them there is something higher 
than forms or ceremonies. Filled with these aspira- 
tions, he perishes without having reached the perfec- 
tion he* longed for ; and the voice heard in the air is 
the promise of immortality and progress ever upward. 
You will perceive that ' Excelsior,' an adjective of 
the comparative degree, is used adverbially, — a use 
justified by the best Latin writers." 

The poem of "■ Excelsior " has given rise to numer- 
ous parodies, some of them being very amusing. Re- 
garding one of these, Gen. James Grant Wilson thus 
writes : — 

" The poet having told me that he had seen scores 
of parodies of 'Excelsior,' but had never met with 
one that my father had written, in which many dia- 



268 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

lects are introduced, I sent it to him ; and, when we 
met again, he amused all present by repeating three 
or four of the twenty -five verses describing a single 
hodman's ascent of a lofty ladder : — 

" ' Mon ami, I vill parley voiis 

Von leetle vord ; 'tis mah you do ! 
Ver goot, sare ; Chacun a son gout ; 
Excelsior ! 

Brava ! brava ! bravissima ! 
Encore ! excellentissima ! 
Primo tenor ! dolcissima ! 

Excelsior I 

By coot Saint Tavit an' hur leek I 
She'd rather fast for half ta week 
Tan shuffle on tat shoggy stick ! 
Excelsior I 

Main Cot ! dot man vill break him pones, 
And knock him prain upon de stones. 
Der Teufel ! did you heert vat tones ? 
Excelsior ! ' " 

Another poem in this volume is " The Village 
Blacksmith." It opens with the familiar lines, — 

" Under a spreading chestnut-tree 

The village smithy stands : 
The smith, a mighty man is he, 

With large and sinewy hands ; 
And the muscles of his brawny arms 

Are strong as iron bands." 

Many years ago the " village smithy " stood on 
Brattle Street, in Cambridge. When it was at last 







U.Vrl. '^^1*0 



" BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS." 269 

removed, a dwelling-house was erected in its place, 
to make room for which it became necessary to lop 
off some of the branches of the " spreading chestnut- 
tree " standing adjacent. A few years after, this tree 
presented such an unsightly appearance that an or- 
der was issued by the municipal authorities to have 
it cut down. "Early in the morning," says one who 
witnessed the proceeding, " the choppers were at it. 
Like burning sparks from the anvil the chips flew in 
every direction, and soon a crash was heard ; and the 
cry went up, ' The old chestnut is down ! ' The 
word ran from lip to lip ; and a crowd was quickly 
collected, all rushing out from house and shop just 
as they were, without coat or hat, and bearing off 
some fragments as a souvenir. They looked like 
ants bearing a burden bigger than themselves. But 
some city officer interfered, and the work of plun- 
der ceased. From this destruction sprung the arm- 
chair which the children of Cambridge presented to 
Longfellow." 

Li the year 1842, long before this destruction, Mr. 
Longfellow made a pen-and-ink sketch of the smithy 
and the tree, as they then appeared. As the scene 
has now totally changed, this bit of the poet's per- 
sonality is so fresh and dainty that I have had it 
reproduced and inserted here. 

When in 1845 the poem of " The Village Black- 
smith" was again passing through the press,i Mr. 



1 In the magnificent edition, illustrated by Huntington, of Long- 
fellow's poems published in 1845 by Carey and Hart of Philadel- 
phia. The same firm first brought out the Poets and Poetry of 
Europe. 



270 HBNKY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Longfellow read portions of it to a barber in Cam- 
bridge. The latter criticised the line, — 

" His hair is crisp and black and long," — ■ 

by saying that crisp black hair is never long. The 
poet was struck with the worth of the assertion, 
and at once instructed his publisher to substitute 
" strong " for the word " long." The next day he 
changed his mind, and again wrote to the publisher, 
" I wrote to you yesterday to have the word ' long ' 
changed to ' strong ' in ' The Village Blacksmith.' 
The word ' strong ' occurs in the preceding line, and 
the repetition would be unpleasant. It had, there- 
fore, better stand as it is, notwithstanding the hair- 
dresser's criticism, which, after all, is only technical ; 
for hair can be both crisp and, long." 

Among the other poems in the volume are " En- 
dymion," very short, but as perfectly and clearly cut 
as a gem ; " Blind Bartimeus," which sounds like an 
old chant, and in which the simple words of the New 
Testament are applied with wonderful beauty ; and 
" To the River Charles," a poem which, now that the 
poet has left us, seems to have a new significance : — 

" Thou hast taught me, silent river, 
Many a lesson, deep and long : 
Thou hast been a generous giver; 
I can give thee but a song. 

Oft in sadness and in illness 

I have watched thy current glide, 
Till the beauty of its stillness 

Overflowed me like a tide. 



"BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS." 271 

And in better hours and briglitei', 

When I saw thy waters gleam, 
I have felt my heart heat lighter, 

And leap onward with thy sti'eam. 

Not for this alone I love thee, 

Nor because thy waves of blue 
From celestial seas above thee 

Take their own celestial hue. 

Where yon shadowy woodlands hide thee, 

And thy waters disappear, 
Friends I love have dwelt beside thee. 

And have made thy margin dear. 

More than this : thy name reminds me 
Of three friends, all true and tried ; 

And that name, like magic, binds me 
Closer, closer to thy side. 

Friends my soul with joy remembers ! 

How like quivering flames they start, 
When I fan the living embers 

On the hearthstone of my heart !' 

'Tis for this, thou silent river. 

That my spirit leans to thee : 
Thou hast been a generous giver ; 

Take this idle song from me." 

The poem entitled " Maidenhood " has many ad- 
mirers. A minister once took this poem as a text. 
After reading it through, he proceeded to draw- 
several lessons from the verses. But the most note- 
worthy thing in the sermon was, the narration of the 
circumstance which gave rise to it. He told a story 
of a poor woman living in a lonely cabin in a sterile 



272 HENIiY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

portion of the Nortli-West, to whom a friend of his 
had sent illustrated papers. From these the woman 
had cut the pictures, and papered the walls of her 
cabin with them ; and an illustration of Longfellow's 
"Maidenhood," with the poem underneath it, she 
had placed directly over her work-table. There, as 
she stood at her breadmaking; or ironing day after 
day, she gazed at the picture, and read the poem ; 
till, by long brooding on it, she understood it, ab- 
sorbed it, as few people appropriate the things they 
read. When the friend who had sent the papers 
visited her after a time, he, himself a man of letters, 
stood amazed and humbled while she talked to him 
artlessly about the poem, expounded to him its 
interior meaning, and expressed the thoughts she 
had drawn from it. The preacher said it was an 
instance of that benign coriipensation by which 
those, who have little may draw the more from that 
little, so that one cup deeply drained may yield more 
of life's elixir than many that are sipped. 

The longest poem in the volume, and the last to 
which I shall call attention, is entitled " The Chil- 
dren of the Lord's Supper." Longfellow received 
the original of this beautiful production of Bishop 
Tegner from his friend Mr. Ward, who had himself 
received it from Baron Nordin, then Swedish minis- 
ter at Washington. Longfellow completed his yer- 
sion within a fortnight. The original is in the 
hexameter measure : so also is the translation. 

The translation is said to be very exact, and in 
the minute points of versification to be superior to 
the Swedish. Mr. Sunnier once told me, that, when 



"BALLADS AND OTHER J'OEMS." 273 

Longfellow first read him the completed poem, he 
advised him to lay it aside, as unworthy of his time 
spent upon it. " It was many years before I could 
be made to see any beauty in it," he continued : " I 
am almost ashamed to confess it, for now I am a 
great admirer of the production." 

The publication of Mr. Longfellow's second vol- 
ume of poems was hailed everywhere with delight. 
All the literary journals in the country gave it 
a notice, and the sale of the book was extensive. 
Among the critics, one alone, Edgar A. Poe, found 
fault with what all the others commended. Inas- 
much as Poe's spirited strictures have become mat- 
ters of history, it is necessary here to allude to them. 

In his criticism on " Ballads and other Poems," 
Edgar A. Poe wrote thus of Longfellow's translation 
of Tegner's poem : — 

" In attempting (what never should be attempted) 
a literal version of both the words and the metre of 
this poem. Professor Longfellow has failed to do 
justice, either to his author or himself. He has 
striven to do what no man ever did well, and what, 
from the nature of language itself, never can be well 
done. Unless, for example, we shall come to have 
an influx of spondees in our English tongue, it will 
always be impossible to construct an English hex- 
ameter. Our spondees, or, we should say, our spon- 
daic words, are rare. In the Swedish they are nearly 
as abundant as in the Latin and Greek. We have 
only ' compound^'' ' context,^ '■footfall.,'' and a few other 
similar ones. This is the difficulty ; and that it is so 
will become evident upon reading ' The Children of 



274 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

the Lord's Supper,' where the sole readable verses 
are those in which we meet with the rare spondaic 
dissyllables. We mean to say readable as hexameters, 
for many of them will read very well as mere English 
dactylics with certain irregularities." 

Poe did not inform his readers of his total unac- 
quaintance with the Swedish language, and the 
original of Tegn^r's beautiful poem. His wild re- 
marks on the subject of metre very justly suggested 
to Mr. Lowell those famous lines in the " Fable for 
Critics:"— 

" Here comes Poe with his Raven, like Bamaby Eudge, — 
Three-fifths of him genius, and two-fifths sheer fudge; 
Who talks like a book of iambs and pentameters. 
In a way to make all men of common sense d — n meters ; 
"Who has written some things far the best of their kind. 
But somehow the heart seems squeezed out by the mind." 

But Poe went still farther. He asserted that " Mr. 
Longfellow's conception of the aims of poesy is 
erroneous," and that, in the volume under notice, 
" there are not more than one or two " poems which 
fulfilled Poe's idea of poetry. The exceptions, which 
he thought were " poems nearly true," were " The 
Village Blacksmith," " The Wreck of the Hesperus," 
and " The Skeleton in Armor." ^ 

1 " I remember," says Mr. R. W. Griswold, " having been shown 
by Mr. Longfellow, several years ago, a series of papers, which con- 
stitute a demonstration that Mr. Poe was indebted to him for the 
idea of The Haunted Palace, one of the most admirable of his 
poems, which he so pertinaciously asserted had been iised by Mr. 
Longfellow in the production of his Beleaguered City. Mr. Long- 
fellow's poem was written two or three years before the first publi- 
cation of that by Poe, and it was during a portion of this time in 



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"BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS." 275 

On the 27th April, 1842, Mr. Longfellow again 
sailed for Europe in search of health. He visited 
France, England, and Germany, and spent the sum- 
mer at Boppard, a watering-place on the Rhine. In 
October he arrived in New York ; and his friends — 
Sumner, Felton, and Howe — went thither to greet 
him. 

Longfellow amused himself on the return voyage 
by writing some lyrics against slavery. In Decem- 
ber these were published in a thin volume entitled 
" Poems on Slavery." ^ For a long time the oppo- 
nents of the great guilt of bondage had been lifting 
up the voice of remonstrance, of entreaty, and of 
rebuke ; circulating tracts and periodicals, and en- 
listing the pulpit and the press in the cause of the 
suffering and the dumb. Anti-slavery societies were 
numerous, and the moral sentiment of the country 
was actively engaged in the struggle. Wendell 
Phillips and William Lloyd Garrison had already 
spoken. Channing had allied himself with the cause, 
Emerson had followed him, Whittier was also com- 
ing to the front, and Sumner had spoken with no 
uncertain sound. It remained now for the poet, 
whose words had already found a place in the hearts 
of the people, to strike his first blow. 

Since 1836 Mr. Sumner had been urging Long- 

Poe's possession; but it was not printed, I believe, until a few weeks 
after the appearance of The Haunted Palace. ' It would be 
absurd,' as Poe himself said many t?mes, ' to believe the similarity 
of these pieces entirely accidental.' This was the first cause of all 
that malignant criticism which for so many years he carried on 
against Mr. Longfellow." — Memoir of Poe. 

1 Poems on Slavery. By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Cam- 
bridge: published by John Owen. 1842. 



. 276 HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

fellow to write some stirring anti-slavery poems. 
The latter was slow in responding; but, when he 
did, the former was well satisfied. 

The volume included eight poems, of which the 
most striking, perhaps, are " The Slave's Dream," 
" The Quadroon Girl," and " The Slave Singing at 
Midnight." The most prophetic piece in the book 
is " The Warning," which is here given entire. 

" Beware ! The Israelite of old, who tore 
The lion in his path, — when, poor and blind, 
He saw the blessed light of heaven no more. 
Shorn of his noble strength, and forced to grind 
In prison, and at last led forth to be 
A pander to Philistine revelry, — 

Upon the pillars of the temple laid 

His desperate hands, and in its overthrow 

Destroyed himself, and with him those who made 

A cruel mockery of his sightless woe ; 

The poor, blind slave, the scoff and jest of aU, 

Expired, and thousands perished in the fall ! 

There is a poor, blind Samson in this land. 

Shorn of his strength, and bound in bonds of steel, 

Who may, in some grim revel, raise his hand. 

And shake the pillars of this commonweal, 

Till the vast temple of our liberties 

A shapeless mass of wreck and rubbish lies." 

After the publication of the book, Sumner wrote 
thus to his friend Dr. Lieber : — 

" I have sent you Longfellow's poems. I hope 
you will like them. The volume which you read 
last year at this time has been translated into Ger- 
man by Freiligrath. The ' Poems on Slavery ' are 



"BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS." 277 

valuable as contributions to a great cause. There 
are hearts that will be reached by their melody that 
have remained deaf to facts, to reasons, and to the 
exhortations of moralists. He has already received 
some gratifying expressions from persons who have 
read them, and been touched by them. Is not the 
pleasure of a successful poet keener than that of any 
other person who uses the pen? His words fly over 
the lips of men, and the poet becomes the dear com- 
panion of the beautiful and good and brave. He is 
not taken down in the solitude of study, but is cher- 
ished always and everywhere. His words give con- 
solation, or inspire the mind with a new relish for 
beauty. In truth, I envy Longfellow the good he 
has done. To how many bleeding hearts he has 
come with succor ! He has been the good Samaritan 
to many who have never looked upon him except 
as transfigured in the written page. You complain 
that his friends will spoil him by praise. You little 
know, then, the sternness with which his friends, 
judge his works before they are published." 

The "Poems on Slavery," notwithstanding that 
they express intense feeling, are not to be compared 
with similar effusions from other of our native poets. 
At the time when they were written, the anti-slavery 
agitation was, so to speak, in the moral phase : the 
Republican party was not yet formed, and the final 
appeal to arms was not to be sounded until twenty 
3^ears later. Still, Mr. Longfellow dwelt in the very 
midst of the agitation ; and its leaders were among 
his. own personal friends. But he was a man of 
peace, and he cherished an abhorrence of violence in 



278 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

word or deed. Though he may never have lacked 
the moral sympathy with America, yet that sympa- 
thy never became with him a flaming fire, as with 
Mr. Whittier, whose poems on the slavery question 
are certainly the finest ever written ; or a rapier edge, 
as with Mr. Lowell. In their day they played their 
part by helping to form the public sentiment. It is 
to be regretted that so grand a beginning was not 
followed up to the last, and that the eloquence of 
his friend Sumner was not accompanied by the poet's 
muse down through the years until the one great 
object was accomplished. The scarcity of Longfel- 
low's anti-slavery and patriotic poems, at a time 
when they were sorely needed, only proves the lack 
of absolute Americanism in the humanitarian aspect 
of his verse. 



IX)NGFELLO\V\s SECOND MAREIAGE. 279 



CHAPTER XI. 

THE PERIOD OF LONGFELLOW'S SECOND MAR- 
RIAGE. 

{1843-T846.) 

LONGFELLOW still lived in the south-east 
chamber at the Craigie House, surrounded by 
his books and often visited by his friends. In the 
pages of " Hyperion " we catch a pleasant glimpse of 
his abode, and of some of the impressions which it 
forced upon his mind. He says, — 

"I sit here at my pleasant chamber-window, and 
enjoy the balmy air of a bright summer morning, 
and watch the motions of the golden-robin that sits 
on its swinging nest on the outermost pendulous 
branch of yonder elm. The broad meadows and the 
steel-blue river remind me of the meadows of Unter- 
seen and the river Aar, and beyond them rise mag- 
nificent snow-white clouds piled up like Alps. Thus 
the shades of Washington and William Tell seem to 
walk together on these Elysian Fields; for it was 
here, that, in days long gone, our great patriot dwelt ; 
and yonder clouds so much resemble the snowy Alps 
that they remind me irresiscibly of the Swiss noble 
examples of a high purpose and a fixed will. 

" Nothing can be more lovely than these summer 
mornings, nor than the southern window at which I 

279 



280 



HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 



sit and write, in this old mansion which is like an 
Italian villa ; but oh, this lassitude, this weariness, 
when all around me is so bright! I have this- morn- 
ing a singular longing for flowers, — a wish to stroll 
among the roses and carnations, and inhale their 
breath, as if it would revive me. I wish I knew the 




Longfellow's Chamber at Craigie House. 



man who called flowers ' the fugitive poetry of Na- 
ture.' From this distance, from these scholastic 
shades, from this leafy, blossoming, and beautiful 
Cambridge, I stretch forth my hand to grasp his, as 
the hand of a poet. Yes : this morning I would 
rather stroll with him among the gay flowers than 
sit here and write." 



Longfellow's second maruiage. 281 

At this period of his life the poet was somewhat 
closely confined to his professional duties; and he 
rarely went out of town, except during the season of 
holidays and vacations. Since his arrival in Cam- 
bridge he had invariably visited his old home and 
friends in Portland at least once a year, usually dur- 
ing the summer ; and now and then he would stroll 
over to New York, where he was always welcomed 
at the home of Mr. Ward, the father of Mr. Samuel 
Ward, whose acquaintance he had made in Europe. 
Here, in 1837, he first met Miss Julia Ward (who in 
1843 became the wife of Dr. Samuel G. Howe), whose 
recollections dating back to this period are interest- 
ing. " He was then known," writes this lady, " as 
the author of ' Outre-Mer,' and had also, I think, 
published a volume of fugitive pieces and transla- 
tions. My brother had made his acquaintance in 
Germany, and had led me to anticipate great pleas- 
ure in seeing him. Mr. Longfellow was at that 
time, and long continued to be, remarkably youthful 
in his appearance. I remember well his clear, fresh 
complexion, and the bright chestnut of his hair. I 
was already deeply interested in the study of Ger- 
man literature ; and our talk, as I remember it, was 
of favorite books and authors." 

Although his income as a Harvard professor was ex- 
ceedingly slender, Mr. Longfellow, in his visits to New 
York, encountered many temptations to expenditure 
in the shape of valuable books and engravings ; and to 
these temptations he very often succumbed, always 
declaring, however, like the vascillating Rip Van 
Winkle in the play, that it was " for the last time." 



282 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

During these years also the old friendships grew 
stronger, and many new ones were formed. Sum- 
ner came regularly to spend Saturday night at the 
Craigie House, and Professor Felton rarely failed to 
be on hand in time for dinner. With these two gen- 
ial souls Longfellow spent his happiest moments, " as 
watchful for their coming as the sweetheart for that 
of her lover." The " Five of Clubs " still thrived, 
and held its meetings ; but there was a sudden break 
in its membership. Cleveland, whose health had 
been gradually failing, died in June, 1843 ; and his 
place at the board was now occupied by Samuel G. 
Howe. Longfellow's visits at Professor Norton's 
were still kept up ; and occasionally he would ride 
into Boston to dine on a Sunday with Mr. Prescott, — 
at his father's home in Bedford Street, — who had 
just brought out his first historical work, the " Ferdi- 
nand and Isabella." 

But perhaps the greatest attraction for Longfellow 
was the Mary Ashburton of his delightful romance, 
— the lady whom he had first met in Switzerland. 
No passion can be more ardent than that of a man of 
thirty-five, and no hero could possibly be more gal- 
lant than Paul Flemming. Of the story of the new 
love, only the faintest outline need be recited. 
Early in the present century Mr. Nathan Appleton, 
a prominent Boston merchant, married Miss Maria 
Theresa, daughter of Thomas Gold, Esq., a Pitts- 
field lawyer, who owned and occupied the fine man- 
sion in Pittsfield, Mass., now the residence of Mrs. 
Thomas F. Plunkett. Mrs. Appleton was a lady of 
rare excellence, and impressed many of her graces 



LONOFKLLOW'S SECOND MAKllIAGE. 283 

of mind and person npon her daughter, Miss Frances 
Elizabeth Appleton. In 1836, as the reader has 
ah-eady seen, the Appletons travelled on the conti- 
nent of Europe, where they became acquainted with 
Professor Longfellow. 

Longfellow returned home first ; and, in the ro- 
mance of " Hyperion," he told the story of his love, 
he being his own hero. After the publication of the 
book, friends on both sides readily recognized both 
the hero and the heroine, and quietly conjectured 
the sequel. It was whispered at the time that the 
young lady was not a little offended by the affair. 
Be that as it may, she was not inflexible, nor did she 
refuse to entertain the new proposal for her hand 
and heart. It was while Miss Appleton was spend- 
ing the summer at Pittsfield that both were won; 
and on July 18, 1843, she became the wife of Pro- 
fessor Longfellow. The happy pair loitered among 
their friends in Berkshire until towards the last of 
August, and then returned to Cambridge. 

Mr. Sumner at the wedding officiated as " best 
man." On the 13th August he wrote to Greene, 
" You will find dear Longfellow married to the 
beautiful and most lovely Mary Ashburton ; " and 
to Professor Mittermaier of Heidelberg he wrote, 
" You have heard of the happiness of Longfellow, 
who is married to a most beautiful lady, possessing 
every attraction of character and intelligence." 

In the following year Mv. Nathan Appleton, hav- 
ing purchased the Craigie estate, presented it to his 
daughter to be the future home of herself and her 
poet-husband. 



284 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

It was during these years that Transcendentalism 
was running rampant in New England. The ten- 
dencies of thought which Emerson had affected had 
taken a decided form, and had come to full expres- 
sion in the year 1836, by the publication of Emer- 
son's " Nature," W. H. Furness's little book on " The 
Gospels," Alcott's first volume of " Conversations on 
the Gospels," etc., — all works based on the new 
spiritual philosophy, and full of criticism of the old 
religious thought and life. Channing, however, was 
the real leader of the movement, as he had been 
twenty years earlier of the Unitarian advance ; and 
his chief counsellor was George Ripley, then a promi- 
nent clergyman in Boston. The first meeting of 
the Transcendental Club was in Boston, at the house 
of Mr. Ripley, on Sept. 19, 1,836 ; and the persons 
present were Messrs. Ripley, Emerson, F. H. Hedge, 
Convers Francis, J. F. Clarke, and A. Bronsoa 
Alcott. 

In July, 1840, appeared the first number of " The 
Dial," under the editorship of Margaret Fuller, which, 
as the organ of the club, enjoyed "an obscurity of 
four years." In 1841 the Brook-Farm community 
was established. 

Of the Transcendental movement it may be said 
that Longfellow lived in the very midst of it, but 
was never a participant. All of its leaders were his 
cherished friends. Notwithstanding that he, too, was 
a scholar, and a devoted student of German litera- 
ture, and that his first important works had stimu- 
lated the taste for German studies and the enjoyment 
of its literature more than any other impulse in this 



Longfellow's second marriage. 285 

countiy, still he remained outside of the charmed 
circle, serene and friendly and attentive. The careers 
of other men were moulded by the intellectual re- 
vival of that time, but Longfellow's was not. " If," 
says Mr. Curtis, " Longfellow had been the ductile, 
echoing, imitative nature that the more ardent dis- 
ciples of the faith supposed him to be, he would 
have been absorbed and swept away by the flood. 
But he was as untouched by it as Charles Lamb by 
the wars of Napoleon." And this was very much to 
his own credit. 

The indifference of the poet to the Transcendental 
movement was not wholly gratifying to many of his 
friends ; and, in certain circles, it drew down upon 
himself some severe denunciations. Margaret Fuller 
was especially bitter, and in " The New- York Trib- 
une " she published sharp criticisms of both Long- 
fellow and Lowell. The poems of the former she 
pronounced to be " exotic ; " those of the latter, 
"crude and imitative." Lowell retorted with bril- 
liant sarcasm, Longfellow with good-natured silence. 
Public sympathy went with them. Viewing the 
subject at this distance of time and scene, one cannot 
help thinking that Margaret Fuller was more right 
than wrong in her criticism, and that both poets 
profited by what she had ventured to say. It must 
be remembered, in justice to her, that, later, she was 
one of the fiirst to recognize the pure and elevating 
tone of Longfellow's verse, and to defend him against 
the onslaught of Poe and others. 

When. Longfellow came home from Europe in 
1842, he found the whole country echoing the 



286 HKNKY WADSWOllTH LONGFELLOW. 

praises of Fanny Elssler the danseuse. Her marvel- 
lous terpsicliorean feats carried him back in thought 
to the land of Castile, and it occurred to him then 
and there to write a drama. The intention was exe- 
cuted, and resulted in "The Spanish Student." ^ In 
this poetic drama appeared the song entitled " Sere- 
nade," which has since become exceedingly popular, 

beginning, — 

" Stars of the summer night ! 

Far in yon azure deeps, 

Hide, hide your golden light I 

She sleeps ! 

My lady sleeps ! 

Sleeps ! " 

The work at the time was much sought, and with- 
in fifteen years nearly forty thousand copies were 
sold. The theme was taken from " La Gitanella of 
Cervantes," and elaborated to the full extent of the 
author's genius. 

The plot of " The Spanish Student " is as follows : 
Preciosa, the daughter of a Spanish grandee, is, dur- 
ing her infancy, carried off by gypsies. One of these, 
named Cruzado, adopts her as his own daughter, 
brings her up as a dancing-girl, and in due time be- 
troths her to Bartolomd, also a gypsy. Living at 
Madrid is one, Victorian by name, a student of Al- 
cala, who meets and falls in love with Preciosa. Not- 
withstanding her caste and questionable character, 
Victorian resolves to marry her. He has already 
been betrothed to an heiress in Madrid. Preciosa 

1 The Spanish Sfudnnt. A play in three acts, by Henry 
Wadsworth Longfellow, Cambridge. Published by John Owen, 
1843. [12ino, pp. 183.] 



LONGFELLOW'S SECOND MARRIAGE. 287 

is also sought by the Count of Lara, a roue ; but she 
rejects him. On a certain night he forces his way 
into her chamber, and is there seen by Victorian, 
who, suspecting the fidelity of his mistress, chal- 
lenges the count to a duel. The duel takes place, 
and the count's life is spared by Victorian. The 
count protests his innocence, but boasts of favors 
received from Preciosa, and shows a ring which she 
gave him, he says, as a pledge of her love. The 
ring is a duplicate of one previously given to Pre- 
ciosa by Victorian. Victorian mistakes it for his 
own, credits the statements of the count, and aban- 
dons the field to his rival. Not long afterwards, 
while attempting to see Preciosa, the count is assas- 
sinated by Bartolome. 

Meanwhile, in his wanderings, Victorian goes to 
Guadarrama, where he receives a letter from Madrid 
disclosing to him the treachery practised by the 
count, and telling that Preciosa is again roaming 
with the gypsies. He goes in search of her, finds 
her ; and the}^ hold a conversation, during which he 
spies his ring upon her finger. He offers to purchase 
it: she refuses to part with it, and a scene takes 
place which clears up a mystery. A messenger has 
arrived from court, who gives the first intimation of 
the true parentage of Preciosa. The lovers depart 
for Madrid to see the father. On the way Bartolome 
appears, fires at Preciosa, is slain by Victorian, and 
the denoument is happily ended. 

The appearance of "The Spanish Student" fur- 
nished fresh fuel for Poe's flaming fire. He began, 
however, very mildly b}^ saying, " The reputation of 



288 HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

its author as a poet and as a graceful writer of prose 
is, of course, long and deservedly established ;' but, as 
a dramatist, he was unknown before the publication 
of this play. Upon its original appearance, in ' Gra- 
ham's Magazine,' the general opinion was greatly in 
favor, — if not exactly of 'The Spanish Student,' — 
at all events, of the writer of ' Outre-Mer ' ; but this 
general opinion is the most equivocal thing in the 
world." The writer then proceeded to reprint " some 
of the finer passages," declared them to be "grace- 
ful, well-expressed, imaginative, and altogether re- 
plete with the true poetic feeling," and, at last, went 
on to criticise the remainder. 

Poe objected to the preface, and accused Longfel- 
low of a lack of originality. He regretted that " The 
Spanish Student " was not subtitled " A Dramatic 
Poem," rather than "A Play;" and asserted, that, 
"Whatever may be its merits in a poetical view, 
' The Spanish Student ' could not be endured upon 
the stage." 

He next finds fault with the plot, and thinks that 
it "looks better in our naked digest than amidst 
the details which develop only to disfigure it; " and 
that, in the conception and introduction of the inci- 
dents, an utter want of skill, of art, is manifested. 
He then, at considerable length, endeavors to estab- 
lish his conclusions on some foundation of reason. 
He ends by saying, — ■ 

" Upon the whole, Ave regret that Professor Long- 
fellow has written this work, and feel especially 
vexed that he has committed himself by its republi- 
€ation. Only when regarded as a mere poem can 



Longfellow's second jsl\uui/vge. 289 

it be said to have merit of any kind ; for, in fact, it 
is only when we separate tlie poem from the drama, 
tliat the passages we luive commended as beautiful 
can be understood to have beauty. We are not too 
sure, indeed, that a 'dramatic poem ' is not a Hat con- 
tradiction in terms. At all events, a man of true 
genius (and such Mr. Longfellow unquestionably is) 
has no business with these hybrid and paradoxicjil 
compositions. Let a poem be a poem only ; let a 
play be a play, and nothing more. As for 'The 
Spanish Student,' its thesis is unoriginal ; its inci- 
dents are antique ; its plot is no plot ; its characters 
have no. character ; in short, it is little better than a 
play upon words to style it ' a play ' at all." 

In the number of " The North American Review " 
for July, 1844, among the critical notices appeared a 
short but appreciative criticism of the literary re- 
mains of the late Willis Gaylord Clark, formerly one 
of the editors of "The Knickerbocker." "All Mr. 
Clark's friends — and few men have had more or 
warmer ones — will welcome this volume as a mirror 
of his mind, of his quaintness, his humor, his pathos, 
his easy, careless manner, his disregard of conven- 
tionalities, and, above all, of his gentle, humane, and 
generous heart." With this tribute, Longfellow's 
contributions to the pages of " The North American 
Review " came to an end. 

At the time when Mr. Longfellow was simultane- 
ously performing the duties of a Harvard professor 
and earning a reputation as a poet, but comparatively 
few persons in this country were acquainted with the 
languages of continental Europe, and a still smaller 



290 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

number, perhaps, were familiar with the poetry of 
Eurcjpe. It was a happy thought which led him to 
prepare a work Avithin a moderate compass, which 
should give to the student of poesy a connected view 
of the poetical literature existing in ten languages, 
six of these, the Anglo-Saxon, Icelandic, Danish, 
Swedish, German, and Dutch, belonging to the great 
(jothic family of the North, and the remaining four, 
the French, Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese, being 
daughters of the Latin. The title given to the work 
was the " Poets and Poetry of Europe." ^ 

The plan of the work was original ; and, as " the 
editor's intention was to give as perfect an idea of 
the poetical literature of modern Europe as could be 
gained from the rhythmical translations that have 
been made at divers times by English poets and lin- 
guists," Mr. Longfellow drew heavily from the publi- 
cations of Bowring, Herbert, Costello, Taylor, Jamie- 
son, Brooks, A damson, Thorpe, and others. 

The arrangement of the various excerpts is the 
distinctive feature of the volume, which is to be 
regarded more a collection than a selection. The 
translations from each language are brought together 
chronologically ; and prefacing each separate body of 
specimens is an introductory sketch intended to give 
" the peculiarities of the languages and of the several 
epochs into which tlie literary history of the country 
is divided." Although short, these sketches are com- 
prehensive. Then follow tlie translations by various 

1 The Poets and Poetry of Europe, with Introductions and 
Biographical Notices. By Henry W. Longfellow. Philadelphia: 
Gary and Hart, 1845. [8vo, pp. 779.] 



Longfellow's second makriage. 291 

hands, the extracts from each author being preceded 
by a biographical and critical notice, written by Pro- 
fessor Felton, " to whose taste and learning the merit 
of a large portion of what is most original and agree- 
able in this volume is entirel}^ to be ascribed." 
Viewed critically, most of the translations are very 
literal, while others are loose and paraphrastic : many 
have been worked over into smooth and sounding 
English verse ; while others are mere rough copies, 
that preserve the sentiment and imagery, but sacri- 
fice entirely the metrical characteristics, of the origi- 
nals. The former resemble foreign coins that have 
been melted down, and stamped anew in the English 
mint : the latter have merely had the foreign marks 
effaced, and are here presented only as bullion, or 
rude material, which may afterwards receive a new 
form and impression, and circulate again as cur- 
rency. 

And now for a hasty view of the contents of the 
volume, in the order in which they are presented. 
First come the translated specimens of Anglo-Saxon 
poetry, consisting of excerpts from " Beowulf," Csed- 
mon's paraphrase of portions of Holy Writ, King 
Alfred's versions of the metres of Boethius, and a 
few historic odes and miscellaneous pieces. Then 
follow specimens from Icelandic poetry. Next Dan- 
ish poetry, including Longfellow's spirited version 
of Evald's " King Christian," which has become the 
national song of Denmark. Attention is then paid 
to the poets of Sweden. German poetry, as might 
be expected, occupies a very large part of the volume. 
But few extracts are given from the poetry of Hoi- 



292 HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

land. Frencli poetry is amply illustrated ; and so, 
also, the poetry of Italy, Spain, and Portugal. 

Such is a very faint description of the varied and 
interesting contents of Mr. Longfellow's volume. In 
the words of one of the early reviewers, " the book 
abounds with material for the gratification of a cul- 
tivated taste, and for the instruction of every mind 
of a generous and inquiring nature. But it does not 
admit of abridgment, and the nearest approach to a 
summary account of it would be to copy its table of 
contents." 

Mr. Longfellow himself contributed many of his 
own beautiful translations to the volume ; and in the 
great crowd of translations by different persons, cer- 
tainly a very few, in point of elegance, finish, and 
fidelity, appear equal to those of our poet. But the 
work, as a whole, is an honorable memorial of his 
great attainments as a linguist, rather than as a 
poet. 

In the year 1845 the first collected edition of Mr. 
Longfellow's poems was published in a superb vol- 
ume by Messrs. Carey and Hart of Philadelphia. The 
volume was an octavo, and comprised four hundred 
and fifteen pages, with eleven illustrations, including 
a portrait on steel, designed by Huntington and en- 
graved by various American artists. It included 
several pieces since dropped by the author from 
later collected editions. In its day the volume was 
looked upon as a fine specimen of book-making, and 
it is still remembered with what care the first copies 
were cherished by Boston booksellers. 

In 1845 was published '•'•The Waif: a Collection 



Longfellow's second marriage. 293 

of Poems."' 1 Mr. Longfellow was the editor of the 
collection, though his name was not placed upon the 
title-page. However, he furnished an introductory 
poem — "Proem" — for the volume, which bore his 
signature, and was dated " Cambridge, December, 
1844." The poem is known as " The Day is Done," 
and opens, — 

" The day is done, and the darkness 
Falls from the wings of Night, 
As a feather is wafted downward 
From an eagle in his flight. 



And the night shall be filled with music, 

And the cares, that infest the day, 
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, 

And as silently steal away." 

Mr. Owen suggested the preparation of the vol- 
ume to the poet, and insisted that the "many stray 
pieces afloat " should be selected in preference to the 
productions of well-known English poets. In the 
book fifty-one poems, mostly lyrical, are inserted : 
and of these seventeen are anonymous ; and the 
remainder are by Thomas Churchyard, G. P. R. 
James, Horace Smith, Thomas Pringle, Robert 
Browning, P. B. Shelley, Mrs. Blackwood, Thomas 
Hood, Richard Lovelace, Robert Herrick, and others. 
One piece, entitled " Each in All," is by Emerson ; 
and there is a "Song for August" by Harriet 
Martineau. American authorship is but poorly rep- 
resented. The following stanza from " The Faerie 

1 The Waif : a Collection of Poems. Cambridge. Published by 
John Owen, 1845. [ISmo., pp. 144.] 



294 HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

Queene," which appears upon the title-page of the 
book, may explain the reason : — 

" A waif, the which by fortune came 
Upon yoLii' seas, he claimed as property : 
And yet not his, nor his in eqiiity. 
But yours the waif by high prerogative." 

Not long after the publication of " The Waif," 
Poe wrote a criticism on the book, and published it 
in " The New-York Evening Mirror " of Jan. 14, 
1846. He ended by saying, — 

" We conclude our notes on ' The Waif ' with the 
observation, that, although full of beauties, it is 
infected with a moral taint, — or is this a mere freak 
of our own fancy? We shall be pleased if it be so, 
— but there does appear in this little volume a very 
careful avoidance of all American poets who may be 
supposed especially to interfere witli the claims of 
Mr. Longfellow. These men Mr. Longfellow can 
continuously imitate (is that the word?), and yet 
never incidentally commend." 

In the following year Longfellow brought out a 
new volume of his poems, including not only those 
which he had contributed to " Graham's Magazine," 
" The New World," and other periodicals of that 
time, but a few new ones hitherto unpublished. The 
volume bore the title of " The Belfry of Bruges, and 
other Poems." ^ One of the most notable poems in 
the book was entitled " The Arsenal at Springfield," 
which, as Mr. Longfellow once told me, was sug- 

1 The Belfry of Bruges, and other Poems, by Henry Wadsworth 
Longfellow. Caniln-idge. Published by John Owen, 184G. 




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I.ONGFELLOW'S SECOND MARllIAGE. 295 

gestecl by reading Mr. Sumner's eloquent address on 
" The True Grandeur of Nations." The i)oem was 
original!}^ printed in " Graham's Magazine " for 
May, 1845. In the same volume appeared " Sea- 
weed " (first printed in " Graham's Magazine " for 
May, 1845), and which the poet wrote at Nahant on 
a quiet summer morning. " The Day is Done " first 
appeared in " The Waif," under the title of " Proem." 
The famous " Drinking Song " flashed into the poet's 
mind one evening while he and Felton were loun- 
ging before a wood-fire in the study, quaffing "poet's 
wine." Another well-known j^oem, " The Arrow 
and the Song," was suggested to Mr. Longfellow 
while strolling through Norton's Woods (so called 
now) in Cambridge. The stanzas were pencilled as 
he emerged from the grove, and was slowly wend- 
ing his way home. 

But the poem which above all others in the book 
has attained a popularity is that entitled " The Old 
Clock on the Stairs." 

" Somewhat back from the village street 
Stands the old-fashioned country-seat. 
Across its antique portico 
Tall poplar-trees their shadows throw ; 
And from its station in the hall 
An ancient timepiece says to all, — 

' Forever — never ! 

Never — forever ! ' " 

The " ancient timepiece " that suggested the 
writing of this beautiful poem stood at the time in 
the family mansion of the Appletons at Pittsfield, 



296 HENRY WADSWOIITH LONGFELLOW. 

Mass. When, in 1853, Mr. Thomas G. Appleton, 
the son of Nathan Appleton, sold the old home 
(which originall}^ belonged to his grandfather Gould) 
to Mr. Plunkett, he insisted that the old clock 
should not be included in the sale. It was brought 
to Boston, where it now stands in the hallway of 
Mr. Appleton's residence. It is in an excellent 
condition, and as yet bears but few signs of age. 
Some years ago Mr. Longfellow purchased an old- 
fashioned clock at a Boston auction, and placed it 
at the head of the staircase in the Craigie House. 
From seeing it there, many persons formed the idea 
that it was the original clock spoken of in the poem ; 
which, of course, is erroneous. All the incidents in 
the poem occurred in the history of the Appleton 
family, and the piece was written by Mr. Longfel- 
low while he and his wife were revisiting the old 
house at Pittsfield. 

In 1847 Mr. Longfellow edited a new collection 
of poems, " The Estray," ^ which was not unlike 
" The Waif " in its general character. Both of 
these books are now very scarce, and are much 
sought after by bibliomanists. 

1 The Estray: a Collection of Poems. Boston: W. D. Ticknor & 
Co., 18i7. [xiv. 145 pp. IGmo.] 




The Old Clock on the Stairs. 



" EVANGELINE, A TALE OF ACADIE." 297 



CHAPTER XII. 

"EVANGELINE, A TALE OF ACADIE." 

(1847.) 

THE year 1847 witnessed the publication of 
" Evangeline, a Tale of Acadie." ^ Let us 
glance first at the circumstances which suggested it, 
and next at the poem itself. 

In the spring of 1755 Massachusetts proposed an 
expedition against Acadia, or Nova Scotia, which 
was undertaken and conducted at the expense of 
the crown. Troops were raised ; and in June they 
arrived in the province, and compelled the surrender 
of the French forts. These successes, at so early a 
stage of the war, diffused a general feeling of joy 
through the colonies, and were welcomed as omens 
of future good fortune. After the French forts were 
subdued, the next question to be decided was, what 
should be done with the Acadians, some thousands 
in number? 

The Acadians were the earliest European occu- 
pants of the country, and had dwelt in it then for 
over two hundred years. Frugal in their habits, and 
of a mild disposition, their attention had been turned 

1 Evangeline, a Tale of Acadie. By Henry Wadsworth Long- 
fellow, Boston. W. D. Ticknor & Co , 1P,47. [12mo, pp. 163.] 



298 HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

from hunting and fishing, the delight of tlieir ances- 
tors, to the cultivation of the soil ; and by diligent 
effort they had reclaimed from the forest and the 
ocean the farms on which they dwelt. By the treaty 
of Utrecht they had been brought under the domin- 
ion of England; but they still loved the language 
and the usages of their fathers, and the religion of 
their childhood was graven upon their souls. For 
forty years they were neglected by the English ; and 
in that time they prospered, and their substance in- 
creased. The crops from their fields were exceed- 
ingly rich. Flocks and herds grazed in the meadows, 
or roamed over the hills; domestic fowls abounded; 
and the thickly clustered villages of neat, thatched- 
roof cottages sheltered a frugal, happy people. The 
spinning-wheel and the loom were busily plied ; and, 
from morn to night, matrons and maidens, young 
men and their sires, toiled for the bread which they 
ate in peace. 

Since the settlement of the English, they had been 
grievously oppressed. Was their property demanded 
for the public service ? It must be yielded immedi- 
ately, or " the next courier would bring an order for 
military execution upon the delinquents." Did they 
delay in bringing fire-wood at the bidding of their 
masters? "If they do not do it in proper time," 
was the harsh mandate of the governor, "the sol- 
diers shall absolutely take their houses for fuel." 
But what was to be done with the Acadians? 

The order went forth from Gov. Lawrence that 
they should be driven from the homes they loved, 
and scattered as exiles over the whole breadth of the 



"EVANGELINE, A TALE OF ACADIE." 299 

continent. The liberty of transmigration was re- 
fused. They were to be treated as captives, and as 
captives they were to be sent out to live among the 
English. The execution of this sentence, so harsh 
and vindictive, was allotted to the New-England 
forces. 

To persuade the Acadians to a voluntary exile was 
seen to be impracticable : artifice, therefore, must be 
resorted to, — to kidnap and entrap them. A gen- 
eral proclamation ordered all the males of the settle- 
ments, " both old and young men, as well as all the 
lads of ten years of age," to assemble at the church 
at Grand-Pre on Friday, at three o'clock in the after- 
noon, then and there to hear his Majesty's orders 
communicated, declaring that no excuse would be 
admitted on any pretence whatever, " on pain of 
forfeiting goods and chattels in default of real 
estate." 

On the appointed day, Sept. 5, 1755, four hundred 
and eighteen unarmed men assembled in the temple ; 
while, without, their wives, with careworn looks, 
awaited the issue of the strange conference. The 
doors were closed, and the sentence was pronounced. 
" It is his Majesty's orders," such were the words, 
" and they are peremptory, that the whole French 
inhabitants of these districts be removed. Your 
lands and tenements, cattle of all kinds, and live- 
stock of all sorts, are forfeited to the crown, with all 
your other effects, saving your money and house- 
hold goods ; and you yourselves are to be removed 
from this province. I shall do every thing in my 
power that your goods be secured to you, and that 



300 HENRY WADSWOKTH LONGFELLOW. 

you are not molested in carrying them off; also, that 
whole families shall go in the same vessel, and that 
this removal be made as eas}^ as his Majesty's service 
will admit. And I hope, that, in whatever part of 
the world you may fall, you may be faithful subjects, 
a peaceful and happy people. Meanwhile you are 
the king's prisoners, and will remain in security 
under the inspection and direction of the troops I 
have the honor to command." 

These words were received with unbroken silence. 
Then a loud wail of anguish echoed through the 
aisles and arches of the building. Every heart 
ached in Grand-Pre that night. No "Angelus" 
sounded softly at sunset : the " summer of all 
saints" had lost its beauty. Old men seemed to 
grow older beneath the cruel sentence ; young men 
looked with dread into the future ; mothers clasped 
their little ones to their hearts, and wept bitterly; 
and maidens shrank timidly from the embraces of 
their lovers, and felt the first sorrow of their 
love. 

On the 10th of September the inhabitants of 
Grand-Prd met for the last time, — in all nineteen 
hundred and twenty-three souls. The prisoners in 
the church were drawn up six deep ; and the young 
men, one hundred and forty-one in number, were 
ordered to march first on board the vessels. With 
frenzied despair they refused to be separated from 
their parents and companions, and at the point of 
the bayonet obedience was enforced. Next, the 
fathers, one hundred and nine in number, were 
commanded to embark ; and eighty-nine obeyed. 



"EVANGELINE, A TALE OF ACADIE." 301 

Then, most dreadful of all, mothers and little ones 
were told they must wait until fresh transports ar- 
rived. The bleak month of December came before 
they left; but where would they find those from 
whom they had been separated? 

Thus dispersed throughout the world, the Acadi- 
ans became nearly extinct. A few of their descend- 
ants still live at the South, but they live to us now 
chiefly in history. "If this affair," says a writer, 
" had occurred on the great theatre of European 
politics, the names of all who were engaged in it 
would have been handed down to the execration 
of posterity. It is like those great acts of pagan 
cruelty, the results of international hatred, — the 
reducing of whole communities to slavery, and divid- 
ing their lands among the citizens of the conquering 
nation, — which disgrace the pages of Greek and Ro- 
man history. Compared with the partition of Poland, 
the standing reproach of three of the leading powers 
of modern Europe, the desolation of Acadia is a 
crime of much darker dye. The former transferred 
a nation from their domestic oppressors to a foreign 
master, probably bettering their condition by the 
exchange : the latter sunk an innocent people from 
a state of almost unexampled happiness into the 
miseries of utter poverty and hopeless exile." 

In his poem Mr. Longfellow selected those circum- 
stances in the history most susceptible of poetical 
treatment ; and, by combining them, he formed a tale 
of rare beauty, tenderness, and moral power. In the 
first part of the idyl he pictures the life of the Aca- 
dians of the village of Grand-Pre. 



302 HENKY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

" There in the tranquil evenings of summer, when brightly the 

sunset 
Lighted the village street, and gilded the vanes on the chim- 
neys, 
Matrons and maidens sat in snow-white caps and in kirtles 
Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs spinning the golden 
Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy shuttles within doors 
Mingled their sound with the whir of the wheels and the songs 

of the maidens. 
Solemnly down the street came the parish priest, and the chil- 
dren 
Paused in their play to kiss the hand he extended to bless 

them. 
Reverend walked he among them ; and up rose matrons and 

maidens, 
Hailing his slow approach with words of affectionate welcome. 
Then came the laborers home from the field, and serenely the 

sun sank 
Down to his rest, and twilight prevailed. Anon from the belfry 
Softly the Angelus sounded, and over the roofs of the village 
Columns of pale blue smoke, like clouds of incense ascending, 
Rose from a hundred hearths, the homes of peace and content- 
ment. 
Thus dwelt together in love these simple Acadian farmers, — 
Dwelt in the love of God and of man. Alike were they free 

from 
Fear, that reigns with the tyrant, and envy, the vice of repub- 
lics. 
Neither locks had they to their doors, nor bars to their win- 
dows ; 
But their dwellings were open as day and the hearts of the 

owners ; 
There the richest was poor, and the poorest lived in abun- 
dance." 



The poet then selects one group from this happy- 
village, — that of " Benedict Bellefontaine, the wealth- 



"EVyVNGELINE, A TALE OF ACADIE." 803 

iest farmer of Graiid-Prd ; " and his daughter, the 
" gentle Evangelme ; " and her favored lover, Gabriel 
Lajeunesse, the son of Basil the blacksmith. With 
the assistance of the notary public, the betrothal of 
the lovers is formally made. This takes place just 
before the dawning of the 5th of September. 

" Then Evangeline lighted the brazen lamp on the table, 
Filled, till it overflowed, the pewter tankard with home-brewed 
Nut-brown ale, that was famed for its strength in the village of 

Grand- Pre ; 
While from his pocket the notary drew his papers and inkhorn, 
Wrote with a steady hand the date and the age of the parties, 
Naming the dower of the bride in flocks of sheep and in cattle. 
Orderly all things proceeded, and duly and well were completed^ 
And the great seal of the law was set like a sun on the margin. 
Then from his leathern pouch the farmer threw on the table 
Three times the old man's fee in solid pieces of silver ; 
And the notary rising, and blessing the bride and the bridegroom, 
Lifted aloft the tankard of ale and drank to their welfare. 
Wiping the foam from his lip, he solemnly bowed and departed, 
While in silence the others sat and mused by the fireside. 
Till Evangeline brought the draught-board out of its corner. 
Soon was the game begun. In friendly contention the old men 
Laughed at each lucky hit, or unsuccessful manoeuvre. 
Laughed when a man was crowned, or a breach was made in 

the king-row. 
Meanwhile apart, in the twilight gloom of a window's embra- 
sure, 
Sat the lovers, and whispered together, beholding the moon rise 
Over the pallid sea and the silvery mist of the meadows. 
Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven. 
Blossomed the lovely stars, the foi'get-me-nots of the angels. 

Thus was the evening passed. Anon the bell from the bel- 

fry 

Rang out the hour of nine, the village curfew, and straightway 



304 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Rose the guests and departed ; and silence reigned in the house- 
hold. 
Many a farewell word and sweet good-night on the doorstep 
Lingered long in Evangeline's heart, and filled it with gladness. 
Carefully then were covered the embers that glowed on the 

hearth-stone, 
And on the oaken stairs resounded the tread of tlie farmer. 
Soon with a soundless step the foot of Evangeline followed. 
Up the staircase moved a luminous space in the darkness, 
Lighted less by the lamp than the shining face of the maiden. 
Silent she passed the hall, and entered the door of her chamber. 
Simple that chamber was, with its curtains of white, and its 

clothes-press 
Ample and high, on whose spacious shelves were carefully 

folded 
Linen and woollen stuffs, by the hand of Evangeline woven. 
This was the precious dower she would bring to her husband in 

marriage. 
Better than flocks and herds, being proofs of her skill as a 

housewife. 
Soon she extinguished her lamp, for the mellow and radiant 

moonlight 
Streamed through the windows, and lighted the room, till the 

heart of the maiden 
Swelled and obeyed its power, like the tremulous tides of the 

ocean. 
Ah ! she was fair, exceeding fair to behold, as she stood with 
Naked snow-white feet on the gleaming floor of her chamber ! 
Little she dreamed that below, among the trees of the orchard. 
Waited her lover and watched for the gleam of her lamp and 

her shadow. 
Yet were her thoughts of him, and at times a feeling of sad- 
ness 
Passed o'er her soul, as the sailing shade of clouds in the moon- 

light 
Flitted across the floor and darkened the room for a moment. 
And, as she gazed from the window, she saw serenely the moon 

pass 



"EVANGELINE, A TALE OF ACADIE." 305 

Foi'th from the folds of a cloud, and one star follow her foot- 
steps, 

As out of Abraham's tent young Ishmael wandered with Ila- 
sar ! " 



Then the assembling of the old and young men at 
the church is graphically described, and there the 
cruel order of his Majesty is made known to them. 
The evening has come, and the bell of the "An- 
gelus " is sounded. 

" ]\Ieaiiwhile, amid the gloom, by the church Evangeline lin- 

gei'ed. 
All was silent witliin ; and in vain at the door and the windows 
Stood she, and listened and looked, till, overcome by emotion, 
' Gabriel ! cried she aloud with tremulous voice ; but no answer 
Came from the graves of the dead, nor the gloomier grave of 

the living. 
Slowly at length she returned to the tenantless house of her 

father. 
Smouldered the fire on the heai'th, on the boai'd was the supper 

un tasted. 
Empty and drear was each room, and haunted with phantoms 

of terror. 
Sadly echoed her step on the stair and the floor of her chamber. 
In the dead of the night she heard the disconsolate rain fall 
Loud on the withered leaves of the sycamore-tree by the win- 
dow. 
Keenly the lightning flashed; and the voice of the echoing 

thunder 
Told her that God was in heaven, and governed the world he 

created ! 
Then she remembered the tale she had heard of the justice of 

Heaven ; 
Soothed was her troubled soul, and she peacefully slumbered til) 

morning." 



306 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

With the destruction of the village and the em- 
barkation of the unhappy prisoners, the first part of 
the poem closes. Evangeline sees her lover torn 
from her embrace, and perhaps lost to her forever. 

" Overwhelmed with the sight, yet speechless, the priest and 

the maiden 
Gazed on the scene of terror that reddened and widened before 

them; 
And as they turned at length to speak to their silent companion, 
Lo ! from his seat he had fallen, and stretched abroad on the 

seashore 
Motionless lay his form, from which the soul had departed. 
Slowly the priest uplifted the lifeless head, and the maiden 
Knelt at her father's side, and wailed aloud in her terror. 
Then in a swoon she sank, and lay with her head on his bosom. 
Through the long night she lay in deep, oblivious slumber ; 
And when she woke from the trance, she beheld a multitude 

near her. 
Faces of friends she beheld, that were mournfully gazing upon 

her. 
Pallid, with tearful eyes, and looks of saddest compassion. 
Still the blaze of the burning village illumined the landscape, 
Reddened the sky overhead, and gleamed on the faces around 

her, 
And like the day of doom it seemed to her wavering senses. 
Then a familiar voice she Heard, as it said to the people, — 
* Let us bury him here by the sea. When a happier season 
Brings us again to our homes from the unknown land of our 

exile, 
Then shall his sacred dust be piously laid in the churchyard.' 
Such were the words of the priest. And there in haste by the 

seaside, 
Having the glare of the burning village for funeral torches. 
But without bell or book, they buried the farmer of Grand- 

Pre. 
And as the voice of thf^ priest repeated the .service of sorrow, 



"EVANGELINE, A TALE OF ACADIE." 307 

Lo ! with a mournful sound, like the voice of a vast congrega- 
tion, 

Solemnly answered the sea, and mingled its roar with the dirges. 

'Twas the returning tide, that afar from the waste of the ocean, 

With the first dawn of the day, came heaving and hurrying 
landwai'd. 

Then recommenced once more the stir and noise of embarking ; 

And with the ebb of the tide the ships sailed out of the harbor. 

Leaving behind them the dead on the shore, and the village in 
ruins. ' ' 



The scene changes in the second part of the poem. 
Many years have now passed since the colonists were 
carried into exile. During all this time Evangeline 
has been wandering in search of Gabriel. At length 
in Louisiana she finds the home of Basil the black- 
smith, who has now become a herdsman. 

" Just where the woodlands met the flowery surf of the prai- 
rie. 
Mounted upon his horse, with Spairish saddle and stirrups. 
Sat a herdsman, arrayed in gaiters and doublet of deerskin. 
Broad and brown was the face that from under the Spanish 

sombrero 
Gazed on the peaceful scene, with the lordly look of its master. 
Round about him were numberless herds of kine, that were 

grazing 
Quietly in the meadows, and breathing the vapory freshness 
That uprose from the river, and spread itself over the land- 
scape. 
Slowly lifting the horn that hung at his side, and expanding 
Fully his broad, deep chest, he blew a blast, that resounded 
Wildly and sweet and far, through the still damp air of the 

evening. 
Suddenly out of the grass the long white horns of the cattle 
Rose like flakes of foam on the adverse currents of ocean. 



308 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Silent a moment they gazed, then bellowing rushed o'er the 
prairie, 

And the whole mass became a cloud, a shade in the distance. 

Then, as the herdsman turned to the house, through the gate of 
the garden 

Saw he the forms of the priest and the maiden advancing to 
meet him. 

Suddenly down from his horse he sprang in amazement, and 
forward 

Rushed with extended arms and exclamations of wonder ; 

When they beheld his face, they recognized Basil the black- 
smith. 

Hearty his welcome was, as he led his guests to the garden. 

There in an arbor of roses with endless question and answer 

Gave they vent to their hearts, and renewed their friendly em- 
braces, 

iaughing and weeping by turns, or sitting silent and thought- 
ful. 

Thoughtful, for Gabriel came not ; and now dark doubts and 
misgivings 

Stole o'er the maiden's heart; and Basil, somewhat embar- 
rassed, 

Broke the silence and said, ' If you came by the Atchaf alaya, 

How have you nowhere encountered my Gabriel's boat on the 
bayous ? ' 

Over Evangeline's face at the words of Basil a shade passed. 

Tears came into her eyes, and she said, with a tremulous accent, 

' Gone? is Gabriel gone ? ' and, concealing her face on his shoul- 
der, 

All her o'erburdened heart gave way, and she wept and la- 
mented. 

Then the good Basil said, — and his voice grew blithe as he 
said it, — 

' Be of good cheer, my child ; it is only to-day he departed. 

Foolish boy! he has left me alone with my herds and my horses. 

Moody and restless grown, and tried and troubled, his spirit 

Could no longer endure the calm of this quiet existence. 

Thinking ever of thee, uncertain and sorrowful ever, 



"EVANGELINE, A TALE OF ACADIE." 309 

Ever silent, or speaking only of thee and his troubles, 

lie at length had become so tedious to men and to maidens. 

Tedious even to me, that at length I bethought me, and sent 
him 

Unto the town of Adayes to ti-ade for mules with the Spaniards. 

Thence he will follow the Indian trails to the Ozark Moun- 
tains, 

Hunting for furs in the forests, on rivers trapping the beaver. 

Therefore be of good cheer ; we will follow the fugitive lover ; 

He is not far on his way, and the Fates and the streams are 
against him. 

Up and away to-morrow, and through the red dew of the morn- 
ing 

We will follow him fast, and bring him back to his prison.' " 

The next day Evangeline resumes the journey, 
accompanied by Basil ; but they find no trace of Ga- 
briel until they reach the Spanish town of Adayes, 
which Gabriel had left for the prairies only a few 
days before. Evangeline arrives at the Jesuit mis- 
sion, where she remains until the autumn, hoping to 
meet Gabriel ; but again is she disappointed : so the 
search continues year after year. 

" Thus did the long sad years glide on, and in seasons and 
places 
Divers and distant far was seen the wandering maiden ; — 
Now in the Tents of Grace of the meek Moravian Missions, 
Now in the noisy camps and the battle-fields of the army, 
Now in secluded hamlets, in towns and populous cities. 
Like a phantom she came, and passed away unremembered. 
Fair was she and young, when in hope began the long journey ; 
Faded was she and old, when in disappointment it ended. 
Each succeeding year stole something away from her beauty. 
Leaving behind it, broader and deeper, the gloom and the 
shadow. 



310 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Then there appeared and spread faint streaks of gray o'er her 

forehead, 
Dawn of another life, that broke o'er her earthly horizon, 
As in the eastern sky the first faint streaks of the morning." 

At last Evangeline finds a home among " the chil- 
dren of Penn," and becomes a sister of mercy in 
Philadelphia. A plague falls upon the city ; and 
day and night Evangeline is in attendance upon the 
poor in the "almshouse, home of the friendless." 

" Suddenly, as if arrested by fear or a feeling of wonder, 
Still she stood, with her colorless lips apart, while a shudder 
Ran through her frame, and, forgotten, the flowerets dropped 

from her fingers, 
And from her eyes and cheeks the light and bloom of the 

morning. 
Then there escaped from her lips a cry of such terrible anguish, 
That the dying heard it, and started up from their pillows. 
On the pallet before her was stretched the form of an old man. 
Long, and thin, and gray were the locks that shaded his tem- 
ples; 
But, as he lay in the morning light, his face for a moment 
Seemed to assume once more the forms of its earlier manhood; 
So are wont to be changed the faces of those who are dying. 
Hot and red on his lips still burned the flush of the fever, 
As if life, like the Hebrew, with blood had besprinkled its por- 
tals. 
That the Angel of Death might see the sign, and joass over. 
Motionless, senseless, dying, he lay, and his spirit exhausted 
Seemed to be sinking down through infinite depths in the dark-' 

ness, 
Darkness of slumber and death, forever sinking and sinking. 
Then through those realms of shade, in multiplied reverbera- 
tions, 
Heard he that cry of pain, and through the hush that suc- 
ceeded 



"EVANGELINE, A TALE OF ACADIE." 311 

Whispererl a sfentle voice, in accents tender and saint-like, 
' Gabriel I O inv beloved ! ' and died away into silence. 
Then he beheld, in a dream, once more the home of his child- 
hood ; 
Green Acadian meadows, with sylvan rivers among them. 
Village, and mountain, and woodlands ; and, walking under 

their shadow, 
As in the days of her youth, Evangeline rose in his vision. 
Tears came into his eyes; and as slowly he lifted his eyelids, 
Vanished the vision away, but Evangeline knelt by his bed- 
side. 
Vainly he strove to whisper her name, for the accents un- 

uttered 
Died on his lips, and their motion revealed what his tongue 

would have spoken. 
Vainly he strove to rise ; and Evangeline, kneeling beside him, 
Kissed his dying lips, and laid his head on her bosom 
Sweet was the light of his eyes ; but it suddenly sank into 

darkness. 
As when a lamp is blown out by a gust of wind at a casement. 

All was ended now, the hope, and the fear, and the sorrow. 
All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied longing, 
All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of patience ! 
And, as she pressed once moi-e the lifeless head to her bosom. 
Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured, ' Father, I thank 
thee ! ' " 



Such are the outlines of this beautiful and pa- 
thetic story, based, as the reader will now perceive, 
without much exaggeration, upon the historical facts 
previously cited in this chapter. 

In " Evangeline " Mr. Longfellow has managed 
the hexameter with wonderful skill. " So smooth 
and easy is the versification," remarks a critic, " so 
few are the forced accents in Mr. Longfellow's hex- 



312 HENRY WADSWOHTH LONGFELLOAV. 

ameters, that persons who have never scanned a Latin 
heroic have learned to recognize and enjoy the 
rhythm of ' Evangeline ' before they have read the 
poem through. Pauses and csesuras and structure 
are constantly changing ; and once in a while a 
stately and sonorous classic phrase gives a Virgil- 
ian compactness to an odd line, and prevents our 
quite forgetting the foreign descent of the measure 
Mr. Longfellow has naturalized." 

" Evangeline " was written upon a theme which 
was suggested to Hawthorne by a friend who had 
heard it from a French Canadian, and by him made 
over to Mr. Longfellow.^ When the poem appeared 
in print, Hawthorne wrote, " T have read ' Evange- 
line ' with more pleasure than it would be decorous 
to express. It cannot fail, I think, to prove the 
most triumphant ' of all your successes." 

Hawthorne also wrote a review of the poem, and 
published it in a Salem newspaper. His admiration 
drew from the poet the following characteristic 
reply : — 

' ' My dear Hawthorne, — I have been waiting and 
waiting in the hope of seeing you in Cambridge. I have 
been meditatiDg upon your letter, and pondering with 

1 " H. L. C heard from a French Canadian a story of a young 

conple in Acadia. On their marriage-day all the men of the j^rov- 
ince were summoned to assemble in the church to hear a proclama- 
tion. When assembled, they were all seized and shipiied off to be 
distributed through New England, among them the new bridegroom. 
His bride set off in search of him; wandered about New England all 
her lifetime; and at last, when she was old, she found her bride- 
groom on his death-bed. The shock was so great that it killed her 
likewise." (Hawthorne's American Note-Books, Oct. 24, 1839.) 



"EVANGELINE, A TALE OF ACADIE." 313 

friendly admiration your review of 'Evangeline,' in con- 
nection with the subject of which, that is to say, the Aca- 
dians, a literary project arises in my mind for j^ou to 
execute. Perhaps I can pay you back, in part, your own 
generous gift, by giving you a theme for a story, in return 
for a theme for a song. It is neither more nor less than 
the history of the Acadians, after their expulsion, as well 
as before. Felton has been making some researches in 
the State archives, and offers to resign the documents 
into your hands. 

' ' Pray come and see me about it without delay. Come 
so as to pass a night with us, if possible, this week, if not 
a day and night. 

"■' Ever sincerely yours, 

"HENRY W. LONGFELLOW." 



314 HENKY WADSWOKTH LONGFELLOWo 



CHAPTER XIII. 

THE PERIOD OF " HIA^WATHA." 

(1847-1855.) 

IN 1849 appeared the least popular of all of 
Mr. Longfellow's productions. It was entitled 
" Kavanagh," ^ and aimed to be a story of New-Eng- 
land life and customs. The tale was written during 
the previous summer, at the Melville House, not far 
from the home of Dr. Holmes, in Pittsfield, Mass. 
Much of the scenery and a little of the story were 
derived from the author's wooing and marriage. 

As already stated, the book never attracted a 
wide circle of readers ; and, at the present time, it is 
doubtful whether it is ever read by many so-called 
novel-readers. Nevertheless, the work possesses cer- 
tain merits, which the able pen of Mr. Lowell has 
most gracefully portrayed. On the first aj)pearance 
of the work, he wrote, " It is a story told to us, as it 
were, while we lie under a tree ; and the ear is will- 
ing at the same time to take in other sounds. The 
gurgle of the brook, the rustle of the leaves, even 
noises of life and toil (if they be distant), such as 
the rattle of the white-topped wagon, and the regu- 
lar pulse of the thresher's flail, reconcile themselves 

1 Kavanagh : a Tale. By H. W. Longfellow. Boston, 1849. 




Longfellow at Forty-Five. 



THE PERIOD OF " HIAWATHA." 315 

to the main theme, and re-enforce it with a harmo- 
nious accompaniment." 

Notwithstanding Mr. Lowell's appreciative criti- 
cism, the " story," which can scarcely be so termed,, 
is incapable of giving much pleasure to modern 
readers. There is almost an entire absence of plot, 
the procrastinating but exceedingly visionary hero 
tries the patience of even his most charitable ad- 
mirer, and a want of unity in the arrangement of 
the incidents of the narrative severely mars the fine 
touches of local coloring and sweetness imparted to 
them by the flowing style of the author. 

The ill success of " Kavanagh " was partially com- 
pensated for by the publication in the following 
3^ear of a fresh volume of poems, " The Seaside and 
the Fireside." i 

The most notable piece in the volume was enti- 
tled " The Building of the Ship," one of the most 
powerful productions of its distinguished author. 
The first suggestion was revealed to Mr. Longfellow 
while on a visit to his native State; but the most 
striking passages in it came later, while he and Mr. 
Sumner were conversing on certain subjects asso- 
ciated with the political excitement of that period. 
The " Free-Soil " party, " whose leading policy was 
free soil, free labor, free speech, free men, and op- 
position to the extension of slavery and of the slave- 
holding power, taking the place of the old Liberty 
party," had just been formed.^ In Massachusetts, 

1 The Seaside and the Fireside. By H. W. Longfellow. Boston, 
1850. 

2 Vide History of Massachusetts. By the author, pp. 456-461. 



316 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

conventions and speech-making were the order of 
the day ; and, in the course of events, the Whig 
party, having lost its vital principle, became a mere 
faction, and gradually went out of existence as a 
political power. Its national representative, how- 
ever, Millard Fillmore, had been inducted into the 
presidential office, and had, shortly afterwards, signed 
the infamous "Fugitive Slave Bill," which aroused 
the spirit of the North. Faneuil Hall never rang 
with more impassioned eloquence than when, on the 
3d of October, 1850, Charles Sumner lifted up his 
voice in the defence of national honor and the per- 
petuation of Right. 

At such a time, when public indignation rolled 
forth like a torrent, and the foundation of the gov- 
ernment itself seemed to be qn the verge of disunion, 
appeared those majestic verses of the poet, ringing, 
every word of them, with true patriotism, and falling 
upon the excited public like oil upon the troubled 
waters. 

" Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State ! 
Sail on, O Uxion, strong and great ! 
Humanity with all its fears, 
With all the hopes of future years, 
Is hanging breathless on thy fate ! 
We know what Master laid thy keel, 
What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, 
Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, 
W^hat anvils rang, what hammers beat, 
In what a forge and what a heat 
Were shaped the anchors of thy hope ! 
Fear not each sudden sound and shock, 
'Tis of the wave and not the rock ; 



THE PEIilOD OF "■ HIAWATHA." 317 

'Tis but tlie flappiii:;' of tlu; sail, 

And not a rent made by the gale ! 

In spite of rock and tempest's roar, 

In spite of false lights on the shore, 

Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! 

Our heai'ts, our hopes, are all with thee, 

Our hearts, our hojjes, our prayers, our tears, 

Our faith triumphant o'er our fears. 

Are all with thee, — are all with thee ! " 

Above the sublime eloquence of these verses, the 
poetic mind of Mr. Longfellow never soared : they 
carry us back to the early days of the world's his- 
tory, Avhen the bard was both the inspirer and the 
priest of the people. 

"• The Secret of the Sea " was suggested to the 
poet while sailing down Boston Harbor, as was also 
" The Lighthouse." In 1849 the poet passed a few 
days at the old Devereux farm, near Marblehead, 
and there wrote the oft-quoted poem of " The Fire 
of Driftwood." The most touching poem in the 
volume is that entitled "Resignation," which has 
found a place in thousands of bereaved hearts. 

In this year a collected edition of Mr. Longfellow's 
poems was brought out by special arrangement, in 
New York, b}'" Messrs. Harper & Brothers.^ The 
collection ended with " Evangeline." 

Mr. Longfellow's fondness for mediieval subjects 
showed itself again in the dramatic jDoem entitled 
" The Golden Legend," which was published in 1851.2 

1 The Poems of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow complete in one 
volume. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1849. (8vo, pp. 146.) 

2 The Golden Legend. By H. W. Longfellow. Boston : Ticknor 
& Fields, 1851. , , > 



318 HENEY WADSWORTIi LONGFELLOW. 

The design of this production was, to present a series 
of pictures, illustrating different aspects of life in the 
Middle Ages. The story, of which only the faintest 
outline can be given here, is perhaps better suited 
to a poem, is exceedingly simple, and not without 
interest. 

The time is in the early part of the thirteenth cen- 
tury. A German prince, a student of alchemy, is 
afflicted with a strange disease which baffles the skill 
of the ablest physicians. While he is sitting in his 
tower, bewailing his former happiness, Lucifer in 
the guise of a travelling physician, comes and assures 
him that his wonderful catholicon will speedily make 
him a well man. He at once produces a bottle of 
the elixir vitse, of which the prince takes a draught. 
In consequence of this intercourse with the Devil, 
the prince is excommunicated from the church, and 
■driven into exile. 

" And forth from the chapel-door he went 
Into disgrace and banishment, 
Clothed in a cloak of hodden gray, 
And bearing a wallet, and a bell, 
Whose sound should be a perpetual knell 
To keep all travellers away." 

The prince wanders off to a farm in the Odenwald, 
where he is kindly received by its humble tenant. 
Elsie, the eldest daughter of the peasant, having 
learned that the prince cannot be cured, — 

" Unless 
Some maiden, of her own accord, 
Offers her life for that of her lord, 
And is willing to die in his stead," — 



THE PERIOD OF "HIAWATHA." 319 

offers to make the sacrifice herself. Lucifer insinu- 
ates himself into the village confessional during the 
absence of the priest, and persuades the prince and 
the girl's mother to consent to her death. Elsie re- 
mains true to her pledge. 

" My life is little, 
Only a cup of water. 
But pure and limpid. 
Take it, O my prince ! 
Let it refresh you, 
Let it restore you. 
It is given willingly. 
It is given freely ; 
May God bless the gift ! " 

The prince and Elsie now make a journey to Sa- 
lerno, where the latter is to make the sacrifice of her 
life. The various objects and incidents occurring in 
the journey are graphically described, and occupy a 
considerable part of the poem. When Salerno is 
reached, Lucifer again appears in the guise of a 
priest, and strenuously urges the completion of the 
sacrifice. Elsie adheres to her determination to die ; 
but, just as she is on the point of executing her pur- 
pose, the prince interferes, and saves her life. 
Touched by her constancy and devotion, he soon 
after marries her, is cured, and returns home amid 
great rejoicing. 

The portrayal of the character of the peasant-girl 
is masterly ; and in only one other of Mr. Longfel- 
low's creations do we feel more interest, — Evange- 
line. But it must be confessed that the poem is 
the least read, for the reason, probably, that it is 



320 HENRY WADSWOKTH LONGFELLOW. 

not included in the popular edition of the poet's 
works. 

At Commencement in 1854 Mr. Longfellow closed 
his professional labors at Harvard College. For 
eighteen years he had attended faithfully to his 
duties as an instructor of young men, and had 
won their respect and confidence. The students 
regretted his resignation not less than all the mem- 
bers of the faculty, with whom he had been inti- 
mately associated. By his efforts and foresight he 
had succeeded in raising the department of modern 
languages to a high degree of eminence ; and the 
reputation of that department had gone over the 
whole country, and its leading features had been 
adopted as models in the establishing of similar 
departments in other American colleges. 

But Mr. Longfellow did not leave the college 
without providing for a Avorthy successor. At his 
suggestion, James Hussell Lowell, a graduate of 
Harvard in the class of 1839, and only twelve years 
the junior of Mr. Longfellow, was elected to fill the 
vacancy. Thus one poet of renown was followed by 
another poet of deserving reputation. 

In the month of October, 1855, a small 16 mo vol- 
ume, containing "The Song of Hiawatha," was given 
to the public. The following full and explicit state- 
ment by Mr. Longfellow of the sources from which 
he had derived the material of his poem was pub- 
lished in a note : — 

" This Indian Edda — if I may so call it — is 
founded on a tradition, prevalent among the North 
American Indians, of a personage of miraculous birth, 



THE TEIUOD OF "HIAWATHA." 321 

who Avas sent among them to clear their rivers, forests, 
and fishing-grounds, and to teach them the arts of 
peace. He was known among different tribes by the 
several names of Michabou, Chiabo, Manabozo, Taren- 
yawagon, and Iliawatha. Mr. Schoolcraft gives an 
account of him in his ' Algic Researches,' vol. i., p. 
134; and in his 'History, Condition, and Prospects 
of the Indian Tribes of the United States,' Part IH. 
p. 314, may be found the Iroquois form of the tra- 
dition, derived from the verbal narrations of an 
Onondaga chief. Into this old tradition I have 
woven other curious Indian legends, drawn chiefly 
from the various and valuable writings of Mr. School- 
craft, to whom the literary world is greatly indebted 
for his indefatigable zeal in rescuing from oblivion 
so much of the legendary lore of the Indians. The 
scene of the poem is among the Ojibways on the 
southern shore of Lake Superior, in the region be- 
tween the Pictured Rocks and the Grand Sable." 

It had often been remarked by intelligent people 
versed in the subject, that the legends and traditions 
of the Indians of North America merited to be pre- 
served elsewhere than in the prosy volumes of an 
archseologist. Over and over again the Phi Beta 
Kappa orators had dwelt on the resources of " bound- 
less prairies and untrodden forests " for poetry ; 
but not yet had any genuine poet come forward to 
seek out their mysteries, and to weave them into 
" mellifluous verse." To be sure, Campbell had done 
a little in this way in his " Gertrude of Wyoming ; " 
Southey had made a complete failure in "Madoc;" 
and a few other Indian poems had been published. 



322 HENRY WADSWOBTH LONGFELLOW. 

and were how forgotten. It required courage, and 
not alone this, but learning, and a combination of 
the poetical and historical instincts as well, to take 
up the theme again, and make of it a result alto- 
gether successful and worthy of renown. 

Mr. Longfellow carried the subject in his mind 
nearly ten years before he brought it before the 
public. It was suggested to him in this way. A 
young gentleman who had graduated from Harvard 
College in one of those early classes which received 
so much attention from Professor Longfellow, just 
after his coming to Cambridge, had returned from 
the West with his memory well stocked with recent 
experiences among the Indians. While dining one 
day with the poet, he very much entertained the 
latter by a recital of what he had seen and heard 
during his rambles on the plains, and more especially 
by repeating sone of the legends of camp-fire and 
lodge, which, as he claimed, were the " folk-lore " 
of the red men. He very strongly suggested to Mr. 
Longfellow the pleasurable task of weaving these 
legends into a poem. 

Not long after, Mr. Longfellow began to consider 
the practicability of acting on the suggestion ; and, 
first of all, he looked about him to learn how much 
had been attempted and accomplished in this direc- 
tion. He found, that, in 1839, Mr. Henry Rowe 
Schoolcraft had published a work entitled " Algic 
Researches," — a collection of Indian tales and le- 
gends, mythologic and allegoric, and, withal, one of 
its author's finest productions. The legends pre- 
served in this and other of Mr. Schoolcraft's writings 



THE PERIOD OF " HIAWATHA." 323 

showed the Indians to have possessed unwritten litera- 
ture of no little value in both a poetical and a humor- 
ous sense. There was much delicacy in the conception 
of many of these tales of the spirits of earth and air, 
with a genuine quaintness showing an affinity with tlie 
fair}^ stories of the northern races of Euroj)e. 

In bringing these curious traditions to light, val- 
uable as an historical index to the character of the 
tribes, as well as for their invention, Mr. Schoolcraft 
ought ever to merit and receive the grateful remem- 
brance of the reading portion of the public. He 
it was who first called attention to this department 
of our national literature . and, without his poetical 
interest in the subject, very much of the material 
which he has preserved would probably have been 
lost, and, — we speak from knowledge, — the poem 
of " Hiawatha " would never have been written. " I 
pored over Mr. Schoolcraft's writings nearly three 
years," said the poet during one of our conversations, 
" before I resolved to appropriate something of them 
to my own use. Having composed nearly five hun- 
dred verses, I suddenly changed my mind, and aban- 
doned what I had written. Then I began again, and 
continued writing to the end. It was not until some 
time after the publication of the poem that I looked 
upon it as of much A^alue, and only until I was 
assured of its appreciation on the part of my critical 
readers did I begin to reab'ze how much I stood in- 
debted to Mr. Schoolcraft. I was anxious to tell him 
that I was his largest debtor, and I did so at the 
•earliest opportunity." 

A few weeks after the appearance of " Hiawatha," 



324 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

the charge was made by a writer in a Washington 
newspaper that the poet had borrowed " the entire 
form, spirit, and many of the most striking incidents," 
of " Kalevala," the great epic poem of the Finns. 
An English critic went still farther, and affirmed, 
that " rhymeless trochaic dimeter is commonly used 
throughout Europe. . . . Mr. Longfellow, in his un- 
alliterated trochaics, may with as little reason be 
said to imitate the metre of the ' Kalevala,' as Phila- 
lethes, in his rhjaueless iambic catalectic version of 
the ' Divina Commedia,' can be asserted to represent 
the music of Dante." Still another critic, Mr. Fer- 
dinand Freiligrath, summed up the arguments, and 
said, "I feel perfectly convinced, that, when Mr. 
Longfellow wrote ' Hiawatha,' the sweet monotony 
of the trochees of Finland, and not the mellow and 
melodious fall of those of Spain, vibrated in his soul." 
Mr. Freiligrath discovered no imitations on the part 
of the American poet, and surely no one was more 
competent to do so. 

The controversy seemed never to have an end, and 
for a while critics amused themselves with preferring 
charges of plagiarism against this latest production 
of the poet. To none of the attacks did Mr. Long- 
fellow make any open reply, notwithstanding that 
he was often urged to do so by several of his friends. 
At length a potent defender entered the field, and 
forever put an end to the controversy. 

In 1856 Mr. Schoolcraft published " The Myth of 
Hiawatha, and other Oral Legends, Mythologic and 
Allegoric, of the North American Indians." The 
following- was the letter of dedication : — 



THE PERIOD OF " HIAWATHA. 32d 

"To Professor IIkvry Wadsworth Longfkllow. 

'■'■Sir, — Perinit me to dedicate to you this volume of 
Indian myths and legends, derived from the story-telling 
circle of the native wigwams. That they indicate the 
possession, by the vesperic tribes, of mental resources of 
a very characteristic kind, — furnishing, in fact, a new 
point from which to judge the race and to excite intellect- 
ual sympathies, — you have most felicitously shown in 
your poem of 'Hiawatha.' Not only so, but you have 
demonstrated, by this pleasing series of pictures of Indian 
life, sentiment, and invention, that the use of the native 
lore reveals one of the true sources of our literary inde- 
pendence. Greece and Rome, England and Italy, have 
so long furnished, if they have not exhausted, the field of 
poet culture, that it is at least refreshing to find, both in 
theme and metre, something new. 

" Very truly yours, 

"HENRY E. SCHOOLCEAFT." 

Apropos of this dedication, an able and painstaking 
writer thus remarks : " It is a very natural remark, 
that the author who first makes popular a peculiar 
style or measure must expect to be charged with 
plagiarism by the ignoramus who makes the wonder- 
ful discovery that such style or measure did not 
originate with the writer through whose agency it 
became known to him." 

The impression made upon the public mind by the 
appearance of " Hiawatha " was more marked than 
that of all of his previous efforts. A German critic 
declared, that " Longfellow's epic is undoubtedly the 
most considerable poem which has appeared for some 
years in the English language. Its success has been 



326 HENEY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

unexampled on both sides of the Atlantic. In Lon- 
don the book has been twice reprinted ; and, although 
we ordered it immediately after its publication, we 
were only able to secure a copy of the fourth edition. 
It was certainly a happy thought to gather the 
legends of the tawny aborigines of North America 
together in a great poem." 

" The London Athenseum " said, " The tale itself 
is beautiful, fanciful, and new ; and Longfellow has 
worked it up into a poem of many parts. . . . He 
has produced, in an imaginary memoir of the hero, 
Hiawatha, a picture of Indian life as it exists in the 
forest and by the river, full of light and color, repose 
and action. ... It is beyond all doubt that this 
' Song of Hiawatha ' will increase Mr. Longfellow's 
reputation as a singer. The verse, as we have said, 
and proved by extract, is sweet and simple, is full of 
local and national color, has a tone and ring of its 
own : in a word, the story of ' Hiawatha ' is the poet's 
most original production." 

" Mr. Longfellow's reputation," said " The London 
Examiner," " will, we think, be raised by ' The Song 
of Hiawatha : ' it is by far, in our judgment, the most 
original of all his productions." 

A French writer in " The Revue des Deux 
Mondes " pronounced " Hiawatha " to be " the most 
finished poem Longfellow has produced." Of the 
metre he said, — 

" The melody of the verse, rapid and monotonous, 
is like the voice of nature, which never fatigues us, 
though continually repeating the same sound. Two 
or three notes compose the whole music of the poem, 



THE PERIOD OF "HIAWATHA." 327 

melodious and limited as the song of a bird." De- 
scribing the general character of " Hiawatha," he 
says, " The feeling for nature that pervades the 
poem is at once most refined and most familiar. 
The poet knows how to give, as a modern, voices to 
all the inanimate objects of nature ; he knows the 
language of the birds, he understands the murmur 
of the wind amongst the leaves, he interprets the 
voices of the running streams; and yet, notwithstand- 
ing this poetic subtlety, he never turns aside to 
minute descriptions, nor attempts to prolong, by 
reflection, the emotion excited. His poem, made 
with exquisite art, has thus a double character : it is 
Homeric from the precision, simplicity, and familiar- 
ity of its images, and modern from the vivacity of its 
impressions, and from the lyrical spirit that breathes 
in every page." 

It was to be expected that a poem, written in such 
a peculiar measure, would have many imitations and 
parodies. The most famous of these parodies ap- 
peared in " The London Punch," and from it the fol- 
lowing selection is here inserted : — 

" Should you ask me, what's its nature ? 
Ask me, what's the kind of poem? 
Ask me in respectful language. 
Touching your respectful beaver, 
Kicking back your manly hind-leg, 
Like to one who sees his betters ; 
I should answer, I should tell you, 
'Tis a poem in this metre, 
And embalming the traditions, 
Fables, rites, and superstitions, 
Legends, charms, and ceremonials 



328 HENKY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Of the various ti'ibes of Indians, 

From the land of the Ojibways, 

From the land of the Dacotahs, 

From the mountains, moors, and fenlands, 

Where the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gar, 

Finds its sugar in the rushes : 

From the fast-decaying nations, 

Which our gentle Uncle Samuel 

Is improving very smartly. 

From the face of all creation, 

Off the face of all creation. 

Should you ask me, by what stoiy, 
By what action, plot, or fiction. 
All these matters are connected ? 
1 should answer, I should tell you, 
Go to Bogue and buy the poem, 
Published, neatly, at one shilling, 
Published, sweetly, at fiye shillings." 

So popular soon became the poem among all 
classes of readers, that ere long the names " Minne- 
haha" and "Hiawatha" became catch-words. Many 
new-born lasses were christened from the, former, and 
many an agile bark sailed seaward with the latter 
flaming in letters of gold from its quarter-deck. In 
a Boston paper, printed at that time, appears the fol- 
lowing local item : " The beautiful three-decked ship 
' Minnehaha ' — named from the heroine of Longfel- 
low's charming poem of ' Hiawatha,' — was most 
successfully launched about noon on Saturday last, 
from Donald McKay's yard at East Boston. The 
occasion was one of unusual interest, and attracted a 
very large concourse of people, who rent the air with 
their huzzas as ' The Minnehaha ' gracefully glided 
into the ' laughing waters,' her namesake." 



THE PERIOD OF "HIAWATHA." 329 

In a speech delivered by Mr. John Bright at Man- 
chester, Enghind, he commented on the effect of the 
then hate war upon all departments of English effort, 
and of its influence on the tone of English poetry, 
and contrasted Tennyson's " War-Lyrics " with Long- 
fellow's " Hiawatha." He said, " I have had the 
opportunity lately of reading a poem from another 
country, written by the American poet Longfellow 
[applause], a poem which treats of the legends of the 
Indian tribes; and while I have turned from the 
poem of our poet-laureate, in which I find him de- 
scending to slang of almost the grossest character, I 
turn with delight to the exquisite poem which has 
come to us from the other side of the Atlantic." 

Cardinal Wiseman, in one of his famous lectures, 
once remarked, " He was a true philosopher who 
said, ' Let me make the songs of a nation, and I care 
not who makes its laws.' " He had previously al- 
luded to the absence in English literature of a poet 
of the people, and went on to say, " There is one 
writer who approaches nearer than any other to this 
standard, and he has already gained such a "hold on 
our hearts that it is almost unnecessary for me to 
mention his name. Our hemisphere cannot claim 
the honor of having brought him forth ; but still he 
belongs to us, for his works have become as house- 
hold words wherever the English language is spoken. 
And whether we are charmed by his imagery, or 
soothed by his melodious versification, or elevated 
by the high moral teachings of his pure muse, or 
follow with sympathizing hearts the wanderings of 
Evangeline, I am sure that all who hear my voice will 



330 HENRY WADSWOr.TH LONGFELLOW. 

join with me in the tribute I desire to pay to the 
genius of Longfellow." 

But the cardinal, endowed as he seemed often to 
have been with the gift of prophetic vision, could 
hardly have foreseen that " Longfellow's poetry 
would ere long be used by a ruler as an instrument 
to pacify a people for whom the threatenings of the 
law had but few terrors." The following incident is 
worthy of repetition : — 

During the free-soil demonstration in Kansas, Act- 
ing-Governor Stanton paid a visit to the citizens of 
Lawrence, where he made a speech on some of the 
questions then uppermost in the public mind. Some 
of his remarks failed to accord with the peculiar views 
cherished by a large proportion of his auditors, who 
gave token of their disapprobation in the strongest 
manner possible. At the close of his address, and 
when it seemed as if a riot was imminent, Mr. Stan- 
ton pictured in glowing language the Indian tradi- 
tion of " Hiawatha," of the peace-pipe, " shaped and 
fashioned " by " Gitche Manito, the mighty," and by 
which Jie " called the tribes of men together," and 
then continued, — 



" I have given you lands to hunt in, 
I have given you streams to fish in, 
I have given you bear and bison, 
I have given you roe and reindeer, 
I have given you brant and beaver, 
Filled the marshes full of wild-fowl. 
Filled the rivers full of fishes ; 
Why then are you not contented ? 
Why then will you hunt each other ? 



THE PEKIOD OF "HIAWATHA.' 

I ain weary of your quarrels, 
Weary of your wars and bloodshed, 
^V^eary of your j^rayers for vengeance. 
Of your ■\vraugiiugs and dissensions; 
All your strength is in your union, 
All your danger is in discord ; 
Therefore be at peace henceforward, 
And as brothers live toaethev." 



The recital of these stirring lines was more potent 
for good than the ringing eloquence of the orator, 
the listening crowd was affected by them, and the mad 
murmurs that were heard only a few moments before 
were now supplanted by an involuntary outburst of 
welcome and applause. 

The popularity of " The Song of Hiawatha " is 
still further attested by its rapid sale at the period of 
its publication. In less than four weeks, ten thou- 
sand copies had been disposed of in this country 
alone ; and up to the first of April, 1857, the sales 
had been increased to upwards of fifty thousand. I 
have no means of knowing how many copies were 
sold in England, as several publishers vied with each 
other in popularizing the work. Probably the de- 
mand for the poem was not less than it was m this 
country; for on either side of the water there was 
no poet living at that time, nor since, who made 
even a distant approach to Longfellow's popularity. 
By all classes the poet was sought and admired : in 
the palaces of sovereigns, in the parlors of the rich, 
in the humble abodes of the poor, might an edition 
of Longfellow be found. Quotations from the poems 
were frequently made in the pulpit, in journals, and 
by public speakers. 



3-32 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

" I do not know a more enviable reputation," 
wrote Miss Mitford in 1851, " than Professor Long- 
fellow lias won for himself in this country, — won, 
too, with a rapidity seldom experienced by our native 
poets. The terseness of diction and force of thought 
delight the old, the grace and melody enchant the 
young, the unaffected and all-pervading piety satis- 
fies the serious, and a certain slight touch of mysti- 
cism carries the imaginative reader fairly off his feet." 

These words were but the expression of every one 
who had learned to appreciate the quiet, pensive 
thought, — the twilight of the mind, in which the 
little facts of life are saddened in view of their rela- 
tion to the eternal laws, time, and change, — this is 
the meditation and mourning of every manly heart, 
and this is the alluring and permanent charm of 
Longfellow's poetry. 



YEAKS OF ADVERSITY AND TOIL. 38o 



CHAPTER XIV. 

YEARS OP ADVERSITY AND TOIL. 

(7855-7869.) 

IT has already been observed tliat Mr. Longfellow 
was a generous contributor to the pages of Amer- 
ican periodical literature. To " The United-States 
Literary Gazette," " The New-England Magazine," 
"The Knickerbocker," "Graham's Magazine," "The 
New World," and to "Putnam's Magazine," he sent 
many of his most delightful productions. Not one 
of these periodicals, however, ever succeeded in win- 
ning so much from his pen as did " The Atlantic 
Monthly," which was established in 1857. The pub- 
lishers of " The Atlantic Monthly " started off Avith 
the determination of enlisting the best efforts of the 
best writers on the continent. At a dinner given by 
the publishers, Messrs. Phillips, Sampson, & Co., of 
Boston, the new idea was discussed ; and the assist- 
ance of such brain-workers as Longfellow, Holmes, 
Whittier, Emerson, Prescott, Norton, Quincy, and a 
host of others, was cheerfully pledged. So notable 
a literary gathering of minds harmoDiously attuned 
to the necessities of the hour was probably never 
held in this country. Mr. Lowell was chosen to fill 
the position of editor-in-chief. For many years 
afterwards, it continued to be a custom for the staff 



334 HENEY WADSWOKTH LONGFELLOW. 

of editors and writers to meet at a montlily dinner, 
which was given usuall}'^ at " Parker's." 

The first poem contributed by Mr. Longfellow to 
" The Atlantic Monthly " was entitled " Santa Filo- 
mena," which appeared in the initial number. From 
1854 to 1876 he contributed forty-five poems, all of 
which have since been gathered into his collected 
works. From 1876 onwards, his poems appeared 
with less regularity in the pages of the magazine ; 
and the publishers of other periodicals absorbed 
several of his best pieces, thus breaking that con- 
tinuity of attachment which he had always exhibited 
towards " The Atlantic Monthly." 

In the year 1858 Mr. Longfellow published a 
narrative poem entitled " The Courtship of Miles 
Standish." ^ Like " Evangeline," it was thoroughly 
American, and at once became popular. But it can- 
not be said that it possesses equal merit as a poetical 
composition. In this poem, as in many others, we 
discern that Mr. Longfellow's weakness lies not far 
from his strength ; that he felicitously expresses the 
feelings and thoughts common to all, but does not 
possess that passion by which supreme lyrists depict 
the high tides of emotion. He never sings under the 
irrepressible impulse of some burning affection, some 
impassioned preference. The same, or nearly the 
same, may be said of Wordsworth ; and that is one rea- 
son why he must be held to be essentially feebler, as a 
lyrist, than such poets as Schiller, Goethe, and Burns. 

1 The Courtship of Miles Standish, and other Poems. By Henry 
Wadsworth Longfellow. Boston : Ticknor & Fields, 1858. [16mo, 
pp. 215.] 



YEARS OF ADVERSITY AND TOIL. 335 

Longfellow does not actually go wrong in his treat- 
ment of love. His perfect delicacy, his careful and 
exact observation, keep him from false raptures and 
affected agonies. But it is one thing not to go 
wrong in the delineation of love, and another to be 
positively right. Let us see. 

In the poem under consideration, John Alden 
loves Priscilla, and Priscilla loves John ; but they 
have never said so to each other, and no one knows 
the state of their feelings. It occurs to Capt. Miles 
Standish that Priscilla would suit him as a wife ; and 
he asks his friend, John Alden, to propose to her on 
his behalf. But John does not fancy such a mission, 
but nevertheless tells the maiden what he has been 
directed to tell. 

"Mute with amazement and sorrow, Priscilla the Puritan maiden 
Looked into Alden's face, her eyes dilated with wonder, 
Feeling his words like a blow, that stunned her and rendered 

her speechless ; 
Till at length she exclaimed, interrupting the ominous silence : 
* If the great Captain of Plymouth is so very eager to wed me, 
Why does he not come himself, and take the trouble to woo me? 
If I am not worth the wooing, I surely am not worth the win- 



nmg 



Then John Alden began explaining and smoothing the matter, 
Making it worse as he went, by saying the Captain was busy, — 
Had no time for such things ; — such things ! the words grating 

harshly 
Fell on the ear of Priscilla; and swift as a flash she made 

answer : 
' Has no time for such things, as you call it, before he is married, 
Would he be likely to find it, or make it, after the wedding V 
Thiat is the way with you men ; you don't understand us, you 

cannot. 



336 HKNRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

When you have made up your minds, after thinking of this 

one and that one. 
Choosing, selecting, rejecting, comparing one with another, 
Then you make known your desii-e, with abrupt and sudden 

avowal, 
And are offended and hurt, and indignant perhaps, that a 

woman 
Does not respond at once to a love that she never suspected. 
Does not attain at a bound the height to which you have been 

climbing. 
This is not right nor just: for surely a woman's affection 
Is not a thing to be asked for, and had for only the asking. 
When one is truly in love, one not only says it, but shows it. 
Had he but waited a while, had he only showed that he loved me, 
Even this Captain of yours — who knows ? — at last might 

have won me, 
Old and rough as he is ; but now it never can happen ' 

Still eJohn Alden went on, unheeding the words of Priscilla, 
Urging the suit of his friend, explaining, persuading, ex- 
panding; 
Spoke of his courage and skill, and of all his battles in 

Flanders, 
How with the people of God he had chosen to suffer affliction, 
How, in return for his zeal, they had made him Captain of 

Plymouth ; 
He was a gentleman bom, could trace his pedigree plainly 
Back to Hugh Standish of Duxbury Hall, in Lancashire, 

England, 
Who was the son of Ralph, and the grandson of Thurston de 

Standish ; 
Heir unto vast estates, of which he was basely defrauded. 
Still bore the family arms, and had for his crest a cock argent 
Combed and wattled gules, and all the rest of the blazon. 
He was a man of honor, of noble and generous nature ; 
Though he was rough, he was kindly; she knew how during 

the winter 
He had attended the sick, with a hand as gentle as woman's; 



YEARS OF ADVERSITY AND TOIL. 337 

Somewhat hasty and liot, he could not deny it, and headstrong, 
Stern as a soldier miglit be, but hearty, and placable always. 
Not to be laughed at and scoi'ned, because he was little of 

stature ; 
For lie was great of heart, magnanimous, courtly, courageous, 
Any woman in Plymouth, nay, any woman in England, 
Might be Iiappy and proud to be called the wife of Miles 

Standish ! 
But as he warmed and glowed, in his simple and eloquent 

language, 
Quite forgetful of self, and full of the praise of his rival, 
Archly the maiden smiled, and, with eyes overrunning with 

laughter, 
Said, in a tremulous voice, ' Why don't you speak for yoiirself, 

John ? ' •' 

Now, this is very graceful and pretty ; indeed, if it 
were the prelude to a climax of true passion-paint- 
ing, it would be unsurpassed. The mistake lies 
here : the poet cares more for the descriptive portions 
of his work — in particular, more for Standish's expe- 
dition to the Indian camp — than for the affairs of the 
two lovers. While it must be confessed that " The 
Courtship of Miles Standish" is Longfellow's best 
love-poem, still one is forced to believe that it is not 
a love-poem of consummate character, when it is 
contrasted with other love-poems, as, for example, 
with Goethe's "• Hermann and Dorothea," where the 
love of the hero and heroine draws into its burning 
heart every other topic in the piece. 

Falling short in passion, M:^. Longfellow necessa- 
rily failed in the drama ; for, as compared with his 
lyrical and narrative poetry, his dramatic efforts are 
of little value. The criticism holds as true to-day 
as in the year when " The Spanish Student " was 



oo8 HENRY WADSWOKTH LONGFELLOW. 

published, that he insensibly glides into narrative 
even when employing dramatic forms; and his heroes 
and heroines regale each other with elaborate de- 
scriptions of mountains and skies. We see the same 
fault in " The Golden Legend." The character of 
Elsie is charming, and exhibits the poet at his best ; 
but Lucifer is the most innocent fiend that ever 
talked platitudes in blank verse. 

On the afternoon of Tuesday, July 9, 1861, a sad 
accident befell Mrs. Longfellow. While she was 
sitting at her librarj^-table making seals for the enter- 
tainment of her two youngest children, a bit of burn- 
ing wax slipped from her hands and fell into her lap. 
Immediately her dress, of light gauze texture, caught 
fire ; and the lady Avas soon enveloped in flames. Mr. 
Longfellow, at the time, was at work in his study, 
.and heard the piercing cry of his unfortunate wife. 
Rushing from the room, he picked up a mat or rug, 
and succeeded in smothering the merciless flames, 
uot, however, before he had himself received serious 
injuries, and too late to prevent a fatal result. 

As soon as possible, Drs. Wyman and Johnson 
were sent for, and, still later, Dr. Henry J. Bigelow 
of Boston. Every thing that surgical skill could 
devise was at once brought into requisition. Both 
patients were kept under the influence of ether 
through the night. On Wednesday morning Mrs. 
Longfellow rallied a little, and the family and friends 
ventured to hope that the worst might be averted. 
Not long afterwards, however, a change took place ; 
and at eleven o'clock in the forenoon the gifted and 
devoted wife was by death released from her suffer- 



YEARS OF ADVERSITY AND TOIL. 339 

ing. Mr. Longfellow's injuries were painful but not 
dangerous. 

The death of Mrs. Longfellow was a shock to all 
who were so fortunate as to be intimate with her. 
Her rare gifts of intellect, her brilliant and ever 
amiable manners, her gentle disposition, and her 
almost queenl}' grace, had rendered her most dear to 
all her friends; and she had always been looked upon 
as the most worthy mistress of the old Craigie man- 
sion. Mr. Longfellow was almost crazed by his be- 
reavement ; indeed, the effects of the shock never 
fully wore away, and caused him to grow old rapidly. 
And yet he bore his sorrow with a manliness that 
well befitted the author of " The Psalm of Life."' 
He made his grief wholly personal, and tried, though 
vainly, to conceal its poignancy beneath his wonted 
cheerfulness and apparent forgetfulness of self. " I 
never heard Mr. Longfellow allude more than once to 
his affliction," said an intimate friend. " We were 
speaking about Schiller's fine poem, ' The Ring of 
Polycrates ; ' and he remarked, ' It was just so Avith 
me, — I was too happ3^ I might fancy the gods 
envied me, if I could fancy heathen gods.' " 

For nearly twenty years the second marriage of Mr. 
Longfellow was blessed with unalloyed happiness. 
Five children sprang from the union, — two sons and 
three daughters. The elder son, Charles Aj^pleton, 
served as a lieutenant in the First Massachusetts 
Cavalry during the late American civil war, and was 
severely wounded in the Mine-run campaign in Vir- 
ginia, in 1863, and since that time has distinguished 
himself as an extensive traveller and expert yachts- 



340 HEjSTRY wadsworth longfellow. 

man. He is unmarried, and has always made his 
home with his father at the Craigie House. Ernest 
Wadsworth, the younger son, married a Cambridge 
lady, and lives in Cambridge, on Brattle Street. He 
has achieved a reputation as a painstaking and con- 
scientious artist, and his work is often seen at the 
art exhibitions. Of the daughters, Alice M. is the 
eldest, and Annie Allegra is the youngest. Both 
are scholarly in their tastes, and have accomplished 
something in the way of literary work. The second 
daughter is married to Richard H. Dana, 3d, the son 
of the author of " Two Years Before the Mast." 
They have two children, — a son and a daughter. 

Several years before the death of Mrs. Longfellow, 
the three daughters of the poet were painted in a 
group by the late Thomas Buchanan Read, the emi- 
nent artist and poet. The picture has been copied 
by photography, and thousands of impressions have 
been scattered. In this picture the position of the 
youngest daughter was such that many persons erro- 
neously got the idea that she was deprived of arms, 
and not a few ludicrous anecdotes have originated 
from such a belief. One day Mr. Lowell, while rid- 
ing in a Cambridge horse-car, overheard one woman 
repeating to another the story of the armless child. 
" My dear woman," said the younger poet gently, 
"you are greatly mistaken. I am an intimate friend 
of the family, and I know that the facts are not as 
you represent." The woman showed a little bra- 
vado, and replied, with the air of one not willing to 
be set right, " I have it, sir, from a lady Avho got it 
from a member of the family." 



YEARS OF ADVERSITY AND TOIL. 341 

The sad death of Mrs. Longfellow was followed 
by that of her father, Mr. Nathan Appleton, on the 
14th of Jul3\ Mr. Appleton was one of the most 
eminent and snccessful merchants of the city of 
Boston. He was born in New Ipswich, N.H., Oct. 6, 
1779, and was educated at the academy in his native 
town. He entered Dartmouth College in 1794, but 
did not graduate. In 1795 he went to Boston, and, 
with his brother, founded a prosperous commercial 
business. He early became satisfied that the time 
was ripe for the manufacturing of print goods in this 
country ; and accordingly, in company with Patrick 
T. Jackson and Kirk Boott, he purchased the water- 
power at Pawtucket Falls, on the Merrimack River, 
and the land adjacent, on which the city of Lowell 
now stands. In 1830 Mr. Appleton represented, as 
the candidate of the tariff party, the Suffolk district 
of Massachusetts in Congress, and remained through 
the twenty-second Congress. In 1842 he was also 
chosen to fill the vacancy in Congress occasioned by 
the resignation of Mr. Winthrop. 

Mr. Appleton amassed a large fortune, of which 
he made noble use, giving freely to institutions of 
learning and of charity. He was twice married: 
first, to Maria Theresa Gould of Pittsfield, Mass., 
by whom he had four children, — Thomas G., a gradu- 
ate of Harvard College in 1831, and now a resident 
of Boston, where he is known as an amateur artist 
and critic ; Mary, who became the wife of Mr. 
Mackintosh, son of Sir James Mackintosh, governor 
of one of the British West India islands ; Charles S., 
who died young ; and Frances Elizabeth, who became 



342 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

the wife of Henry W. Longfellow. His first wife 
died in 1833 ; and in 1839 he married Harriet C. 
Sumner, a cousin of Charles Sumner, by whom he 
had two sons and one daughter. 

Several of the poems which Mr. Longfellow pub- 
lished in " The Atlantic Monthly " were, in 1863, 
gathered together, and printed in a volume bearing 
the title of " Tales of a Wayside Inn." ^ The series 
reminds one of Chaucer's " Canterbury Tales," and 
now and then a little of " The Decameron." The 
" inn " where the guests recite their tales of varied 
worth and interest is an old hostelry, still standing, 
in Sudbury, Mass., long known as "Howe's Tavern." 
Hither, for many summers, the story-tellers were wont 
to resort, seeking a change from the sweltering heat 
and east winds of Boston and Cambridge. The poet 
does not give his readers to understand who were 
these story-tellers, but doubtless many persons have 
wished to know. The landlord was Lyman Howe 
of Sudbury; the student, Henry Wales of Boston; 
the Spanish Jew, Edulei of Boston ; the Sicilian, 
Professor Luigi Monti of Boston ; the musician, Ole 
Bull of Norway ; the theologian. Professor Tread- 
well ; and the poet, Thomas William Parsons. 

A second series of " Tales of a Wayside Inn " ap- 
peared in 1872, and a third in 1873, in the volume 
entitled " Aftermath." ^ The same scene and charac- 
ters are maintained through the whole series. 

On the 19th of May, 1861, Hawthorne passed 

1 Tales of a AVayside Inn. By Henry W. Longfellow. Boston : 
Ticknor & Fields, 1863. 

- Aftermath. By Henry W. Longfellow. Boston ; Fields, Os- 
good, & Co., 1873. 



YEAPtS OF ADVEPvSITY AND TOIL. 



843 



from the living. Five days later his remains were 
borne to Concord and consigned to " Sleepy Hol- 
low," the beautiful cemetery where he had been 
wont to walk among the pines. On the day of the 




Nathaniel Hawthorne. 



funeral, Longfellow and Lowell and Holmes, and 
Emerson and Agassiz and Channing and Pierce, and 
other friends, assembled to take a I'ast look. Return- 
ing home, the poet wrote that beautiful poem, which 



344 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

one never tires of reading. It is called " Haw- 
thorne," and of it two stanzas must here be given: — 

" Now I look back, and meadow, manse, and stream 
Dimly my thought defines ; 
I only see — a dream within a dream — 
The hill-top hearsed with pines. 

Ah ! who shall lift that wand of magic power, 

And the lost clew regain ? 
The unfinished window in Aladdin's tower 

Unfinished must remain ! " 

This poem with others was published in 1864 in a 
small volume entitled " Flower-de-Luce." ^ The 
most notable pieces in the collection are "The Bells 
of Lynn," "Noel," and "Killed at the Ford." 

An able writer has said, that when Mr. Browning 
published " Dramatic Lyrics," or Mr. Tennyson 
the "Idyls of the King," the title of the book 
showed to what kind of poetry the author thought 
its contents belonged. But when Mr. Longfellow 
brought forward his " New-England Tragedies," ^ in 
1868, his readers at once understood the themes, 
rather than the poet's manner of unfolding them, 
from the title alone. These themes, too, were felici- 
tous ; and the poet was certainly far enough removed 
in knowledge and in customs from the periods of the 
persecutions of the Quakers and of the witchcraft 

1 Flower-de-Luce, and other Poems. By Henry W. Longfellow, 
Boston : Ticknor & Fields, 1864. 

2 Tlie New-England Trac^edies. By Henry Wadsworth Lonjifel- 
low. I. Jolm Endicott. IL Giles Corey of the Salem Farms. Bos- 
ton; Field.s, Osgood, & Co., 1SG8. [12mo, pp. 17'J.] 



YEARS OF ADVERSITY AND TOIL. 345 

delusion, to see and depict the situation without 
l)rejudice. 

The volume contained two plays of simple struc- 
ture, and written in hmguage so plain as almost to 
appear prosy. The tirst play, entitled " John Endi- 
cott," deals with the early persecution of the Quakers 
in New England with a kindness and fair-minded- 
ness not often exhibited even by our most intelligent 
historians. He who reads it, in the spirit in which 
the story is related, will " be gladder for the troubled 
governor at his escape by death from the bitter war- 
fare of heart and mind than at the escape of the 
Quakers from merely bodily pain by the ending of 
the i^ersecution." 

" He breathes no more ! How bright this signet ring 
Glitters upon his hand, where he has worn it 
Through such long years of trouble, as if Death 
Had given him this memento of affection, 
And whispered in his ear, ' Remember me ! ' 
How placid and how quiet is his face, 
Now that the struggle and the strife are ended ! 
Only the acrid spirit of the times 
Corroded this true steel. Oh, rest in peace, 
Courageous heart ! Forever rest in peace ! " 

In " Giles Corey of the Salem Farms," once the 
note of genuine tragedy is touched. It is the idea 
that pride goeth before a fall. 

" The Lord hath prospered me. The rising sun 
Shines on my hundred acres and my woods 
As if he loved them. On a morn like this 
I can forgive mine enemies, and thank God 
For all his goodness unto me and mine. 



346 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

My orchard groans with russets and pearmains ; 
My ripening corn shines golden in the sun ; 
My barns are crammed with hay ; my cattle thrive ; 
The birds sing blithely on the trees around me ; 
And blither than the birds my heart within me ! 
But Satan still goes up and down the earth ; 
And to protect this house from his assaults, 
And keep the powers of darkness from my door, 
This horseshoe will 1 nail upon the threshold. 
There, ye night-hags and witches that torment 
The neighborhood, ye shall not enter here ! " 

On the twenty-seventh day of May, 1868, Mr. 
Longfellow sailed in the steamer " Russia " on a third 
visit to Europe. Before he left Boston, he was enter- 
tained at dinner by a select gathering of friends, 
among whom were Fields, Whittier, Lowell, and 
Holmes. The last named read an original poem, 
which opened as follows : — 

" Our poet, who has taught the western breeze 
To waft his songs befoi-e him o'er the seas. 
Will find them wheresoe'er his wanderings reach 
Borne on the spreading tide of English speech 
Twin with the I'hythmic waves that kiss the farthest beach." 

The voyage was a speedy and a pleasant one, and 
the poet arrived in England about the middle of 
June. On Tuesday, the 16th inst., during the reci- 
tation of the prize exercises at the university of Cam- 
bridge, it Avas proposed to confer the degree of 
honorary doctor of laws upon Mr. Longfellow. The 
floor of the, Senate House was crowded by all who had 
the privilege of admittance : and, it being a " scarlet 
day," a most brilliant display was presented. The 
undergraduates thronged the galleries, and favored 



YEARS OF ADVERSITY AND TUlL. 347 

the poet with a literal triumph. The vice-chancellor 
presided ; and, shortly after two o'clock, Mr. Longfel- 
low entered upon the dais amid cheering from the 
galleries again and again renewed. There was but 
very little of the interruption from the galleries that 
usually takes place on similar occasions. The pub- 
lic orator presented Mr. Longfellow for his degree, 
a Latin oration was made in honor of the poet, and 
the latter then received his degree. Afterwards, 
the poet sat down, and was the cynosufe of all eyes 
till the close of the proceedings. 

In commenting on this interesting event, the 
London " Daily News " said, " It is in its interna- 
tional aspect that we rejoice at the public honor done 
to Mr. Longfellow. Familiar as his name is in the 
mouths of the people, among us he represents his 
country. Such men come among us on unofficial 
embassies of peace and friendship and good will. 
Their visits multiply the ties which, as kindred peo- 
ples, bind us together. Our tendency is more and 
more to cultivate our relationship to the progressive 
and expanding West- Our language, our literature, 
and our race have a great future here and a great 
future there. Mr. Longfellow represents the pro^ 
found unity of sympathy, of home feeling, and of 
moral aspiration which there is between us. That 
we can each be represented by the same poet, and 
feel that the same lyrics express our feelings and 
move our hearts, is a strong tie of international 
sympathy." 

During his stay in England Mr. Longfellow paid 
a visit to Stratford-on-Avon, the home of Shak- 



348 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

speare, and went over the principal places of interest. 
He received an invitation from the members of the 
University Club of Edinburgh to dine with them, but 
was compelled to forego the honor. Ou July 4 
he went to Windsor Castle, and had the honor of an 
interview with the queen. Later in the day, her 
Majesty remarked to Theodore Martin (the biogra- 
pher of Prince Albert), who had come to the castle, 
'' I wished for you this morning, for j^ou would 
have seen something that would have delighted you 
as a man of letters. The American poet Longfellow 
has been here. I noticed an unusual interest among 
the attendants and servants. I could scarcely credit 
that they so generally understood who he was. 
When he took leave, they concealed themselves in 
places from which they could get a good look at him 
as he passed. I have since inquired among them, 
and am surprised and pleased to find that many of 
his poems are familiar to them. No other distin- 
guished person has come here that has excited so 
peculiar an interest. Such poets wear a crown that 
is imperishable." 

The following beautiful poem of " Welcome," writ- 
ten by Mr. Charles Kent (not, as commonly reported, 
by Charles Kingsley), appeared in "-The London 
Times : " — 

" Welcome to England, thou whose strains prolong 
The glorious bead-roll of our Saxon song : 
Ambassador and pilgrim-bard in one, 
Fresh from thy home, -^ the home of Washington. 
On hearths as sacred as thine own, here stands 
The loving welcome that thy name commands: 



YEARS OF ADVIORSITY AND TOIL. 849 

Hearths swept for thee and garnished as a shrine 
By trailing garments of th}' muse divine. 
Poet of nature and of nations, know 
Thy fair fame spans tlie ocean like a bow, 
Born from the rain that falls into each life, 
Kindled by dreams with loveliest fancies rife : 
A radiant arch that with prismatic dyes 
Links the two worlds, its keystone in the skies." 

It would serve no useful purpose to enumerate all 
the honors that were lavishly showered upon the 
poet. For nearly two months it was an endless 
round of fetes and dinner-parties, receptions by 
learned societies, and holiday excursions. Towards 
the middle of July, Mr. Longfellow visited Tenny- 
son at the Isle of Wight, and Avas most handsomely 
entertained. Soon afterwards he left England to 
spend the remainder of the summer on the borders 
of the Lake of Como. From thence he went down 
into Italy, where he passed the winter and the spring. 
On returning from Italy, Mr. Longfellow again made 
a brief stay in England ; and in July, 1869, he was 
at the university of Oxford, where he received the 
degree of J.C.D, On the 31st of August he returned 
home to this country. 

While Mr. Longfellow was in England, an absurd 
story, concocted by some idle gossiper, gained cur- 
rency both here and abroad. It was to the effect, 
that, on the occasion of an earlier visit in England, 
Mr. Longfellow had called at Knebworth, bearing 
a letter of introduction to Lord Lytton, then Sir 
Edward Bulwer, and b}^ the latter had been most 
insultingly treated. The printed canard was for- 



350 



HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 



warded to Lord Lytton, who at once wrote a commu- 
nication to the newspapers, in which he pronounced 
it "an impudent falsehood from beginning to end." 
Characterized by the same lack of veracity were the 
pretty but foolish stories which a female writer in 
this country circulated, some years ago, relative to 
Mr. Longfellow's reception at Windsor Castle. The 
queen gave the poet a generous welcome, but in no 
wise compromised the dignity of her station. 




Oliver Wendell Holmes. 



THE TliANSLATlON OF DANTE. 351 



CHAPTER XV. • 

THE TRANSLATION OF DANTE. 

(7S67.) 

ON the 6th of September, 1867, George Ticknor 
wrote to his Majesty, John, King of Saxony, as 
follows : — 

" One work, which of late has much interested me, 
I took the liberty of sending a few days ago to your 
Majesty, as something you may not be sorry to see. 
It is the translation of ' The Divina Commedia,' re- 
cently published here by our well-known poet, Long- 
fellow. He has been many years employed on it, 

— above five and twenty within my knowledge, — 
imposing upon himself all the time such rigorous 
conditions, that I wonder he has been able to do it 
at all. For he has rendered the whole poem abso- 
lutely line for line, making each line express exactly 
what belongs to the correspondinglinein the original, 

— not a particle more, not a particle less. In this he 
has been more severe with himself than any trans- 
lator of Dante known to me, — more, even, than your 
Majesty has been." 

Mr. Longfellow began his translation of Dante 
during the early years of his Harvard professorship. 
The task was easily suggested to him by his practice 
of reading Dante to his classes ; and many of the 



352 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

notes which he promulgated to them, and which 
were carefully taken down by the students in their 
note-books, are still retained, almost as originally 
given, in the poet's translation. Mr. Ward has 
given us a pleasant reminiscence of the way in which 
Longfellow began and carried on his version. For 
many years, a few minutes in the early morning, 
while the poet was waiting for his coffee to boil, 
comprised all the time in the day that was allotted 
to the work, which thus went on, "line upon line,'' 
until the whole was completed. Then it became 
necessary to revise the sheets, which was accom- 
plished with the aid and counsel of many friends. 
Just how this was done is disclosed by the following 
interesting communication written by Mr. J. H. A. 
Bone of Cleveland, O. It so forcibly delineates the 
charming features of the "-'Cabinet Councils," that 
it is here reproduced entire. 

" In Januar}^ 1867, I was at Cambridge, Mass., 
spiending some days as the invited guest of Professor 
James Russell Lowell at his pleasant home of Elm- 
wood. The daylight hours were mostly passed in 
delving for literary, historical, and philological facts 
among the mass of valuable materials in the Har- 
vard-College library, and the evenings in talks, con- 
tinuing far into the night, before the bright wood- 
fire in Professor Lowell's home library, on topics 
suggested by the day's work, or by the books on the 
open shelves around us. 

" The presence among these of a number of vol- 
umes relating to Dante turned the conversation one 
evening to the subject of a new translation of ' The 



THE TIIANSLATION OF DANTE. 353 

Divine Comedy,' upon which I knew Longfellow 
had been for some time engaged, and which Mr. 
Fields had told me a few da_ys before would probably 
be published within a few months. Professor Low- 
ell said he had himself, years before, conceived the 
idea of translating Dante's great work, and had 
begun a collection of Dantean literature for that 
purpose, but had abandoned it when he learned that 
his friend Longfellow had formed the serious pur- 
pose of performing the work. Mr. Charles Eliot 
Norton, one of the finest of Dantean scholars, had 
also relinquished a partially formed pur|)ose of the 
same character, and had now turned his attention to 
the translation of Dante's ' New Life,' which, it 
may be remarked in passing, was published later in 
the same year. Professor Lowell said that all the 
Danteans of Cambridge recognized the superior fit- 
ness of Longfellow for the task, and had cordially 
given him assistance and counsel when asked, feel- 
ing pride in the work. On the other hand. Professor 
Longfellow was equally cordial and frank in invit- 
ing their aid ; and it had been a custom during many 
months for the select circle of Danteans to meet at 
Longfellow's house on Wednesday evenings to listen 
to the poet's reading of his translation as it progressed, 
and to make suggestions concerning it. The final 
revision of the proof-sheets was then going on, and 
the Wednesday evenings were devoted to the last 
' Cabinet Councils ' on them before they were dis- 
missed for publication. 

" To my delight, the next day brought me a pleas- 
ant invitation from Professor Longfellow to accom- 



354 HENllY WADSWOJRTH LONGFELLOW. 

pany Professor Lowell to the Dante gathering that 
evenmg, and to attend these meetings as long as I 
remained at Cambridge. It was, of course, accepted , 
and in the evening we walked through the snow to 
the well-known Longfellow home, and were met at 
the door by the poet himself, who had from the 
window seen us approaching. It is hardly necessary 
to repeat the description of Longfellow's appearance, 
and his kindly courtesy of manner, which has be- 
come familiar to every one. He was then approach- 
ing his sixtieth birthday, but his white hair and 
beard gave him a patriarchal appearance more in 
keeping with twenty years greater age. That was, 
however, the only sign of advanced years. His 
complexion was fresh, his eyes softly bright, and 
his manner so courteous and winning, that the 
question of real or apparent age was at once for- 
gotten. The visitor felt himself at ease immediately, 
as if he had always belonged to the inner circle 
of the poet's friends ; and the secret of the strong 
affection felt toward Longfellow by his literary 
neighbors — and some might think rivals — was ex- 
plained. 

"After a few minutes' pleasant conversation in 
the poet's well-appointed study, James T. Fields, 
the poet's publisher, and who was also a poet-pub- 
lisher, walked briskly up the snowy path from the 
old-fashioned gateway, and was warmly greeted. 
William D. Howells, then assistant editor of 'The 
Atlantic Monthly,' and a great favorite with both 
the older Cambridge poets, quickly followed. There 
was a lively conversation for a short time, a remark 



THE TRANSLATION OF DANTE. 355 

concerning the unusual absence of Charles Eliot 
Norton, — 'snowed in,' some one suggested, — and 
then Longfellow, glancing at the clock, said ' School- 
time ! ' Each of the visitors was handed a copy of 
Dante in the original, with which to follow the 
translation as read from the j^rinted sheets. I 
pleaded my insufficient acquaintance with the Ital- 
ian, but the ' schoolmaster ' would not let me off 
thus. ' All scholars must work,' said Longfellow ; 
and he handed me a volume containing a prose 
literal translation, with the injunction that any 
marked difference in the rendering of a word or 
construing the sense of a passage must be noted, if 
a doubt as to its propriety arose. Then all settled 
down to close study. 

" As a preliminary, Longfellow took from a drawer 
the sheets which had been passed upon at the pre- 
vious meeting, and on which he had noted the sug- 
gestions, objections, and doubts of the ' scholars ' 
made at that time. These had all been carefully 
considered, some amendments accepted, others re- 
jected, and the doubtful passages thoroughly exam- 
ined. Where the translator still preferred his own 
rendition to that suggested by his critics, he gave 
his reasons for that action. This done, the sheets 
were replaced, the new set taken up, and the poet 
began reading the lines slowly, and at the same time 
watchful of any indication of dissent or doubt on the 
part of his hearers. 

"The reading commenced with Canto XIII. of 
the ' Inferno,' where Dante and his guide enter the 
marvellous wood. 



656 HENKY WADSWOilTH LONGFELLOW. 

" ' Not foliage green , but of a dusky color, 

Not branches smooth, but gnarled and intertangled, 
Not apple-trees were there, but thorns with poison.' 

" The reading continued Avitliout interruption until 
the thirtieth line was reached. 

" ' Therefore the Master said, " If thou break off 
Some little spray from any of those trees. 
The thoughts thou hast will wholly be made vain.' 

"The last line is one of the well-known difficul- 
ties of the translators of Dante. In the orisfnial it 

stands, — 

" ' Se tu tronchi 
Qualche fraschetta d'una d'este piante, 
Li pensier ch' hai si faran tutti monchi.' 

" Gary renders it thus : — 

" ' If thou lop off 
A single twig from one of those ill plants 
The thought thou hast conceived shall vanish quite.' 

" It is thought the passage remains imperfect and 
defective in the original text, hence the difficulty of 
translation. Longfellow appeared to be not quite 
satisfied with his rendering, and invited suggestions 
of improvement ; but these were hesitatingly given. 
All the suggested emendations Avere noted for after 
consideration, and the reading continued. Some- 
times one of the listeners checked the reader to 
interpose a question or a doubt ; at other times the 
poet himself stopped to explain the reason for his 
selection of a word. In either case discussion gen- 
erally followed, authorities were examined and cited ; 
and after all the information obtainable had been 



THE TRANSLATION OF DANTE, 357 

brought out, and the net result noted on the margin 
of the proof, the reading was resumed. 

" One stop was at the incident of the shades of 
the unfortunate Lano of Sienna and Jacopo of San 
Andrea rushing through the ghastly wood, chased 
by ' black she-mastiffs, ravenous, and swift of foot as 
greyhounds who are issuing from the chain,' the 
ghosts — 

" ' Naked and scratched, fleeing so furiously 

That of the forest every fan they broke. 
He who was in the advance, " Now, help. Death, help ! " ' 

" A question was raised as to the exact meaning 
in that connection of ' accorri.' Dante says the fore- 
most of the fleeing shapes cried, '■Ora accorri, accorri 
morte.'' Gary, with some other translators, renders 
the word in its sense of haste. 

" ' Haste now,' the foremost cried, ' now haste thee. Death ! ' 

"After some discussion, Longfellow's choice of 
meaning was approved, and the line retained with- 
out change. The fourteenth canto was read with 
fewer interruptions. One of these was at the pas- 
sage describing the rain of fire upon the naked spirits 
stretched or crouched upon the burning sand. 

" ' Thus was descending the eternal heat. 

Whereby the sand was set on fire, like tinder 
Beneath the steel, for doubling of the dole.' 

" One of the listeners looked up quickly as if to 
offer a remark, but immediately returned to the open 
book. Longfellow noticed the movement, and inter- 
preted its meaning. ' I prefer " dole " to " suffering," 
" sorrow," or " sadness," ' he said, ' because it is more 



358 HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

poetic in this place, as well as better expressing the 
exact shade of meaning. A poet's license might 
well be pleaded for such a word,' he added with a 
smile ; ' although our friends, the dictionary-makers, 
mark it as obsolete.' 

" ' Tennyson uses the word,' I ventured to remark. 

" ' Tennyson restores to literature many words 
that are under the ban of the dictionary-makers as 
obsolete,' said Fields ; ' and the use to which he puts 
them justifies the act. In this case the alliterative 
euphony of " doubling of the dole " would warrant 
stretching a point in the translation if that were 
necessary. But the propriety of adopting the word 
is to me even more apparent in the opening lines of 
the third canto. How perfectly the lines — 

" '" Per me si va nella citta dolente, 
Per me si va nell' eterno dolore 
Per me si va tra la perduta gente " ' — 

are rendered by 

" '" Through me the way is to the city dolent ; 
Through me the way is to eternal dole ; 
Through me the way among the people lost ; " ' 

and how poor as well as how unliteral Gary's ver- 
sion, — 

" ' " Through me you pass into the city of woe ; 
Though me you pass into eternal paiu ; 
Through me among the people lost for aye." * 

" ' Dole, in the sense of pain, mental suffering, 
sadness, or sorrow,' remarked Lowell, 'was a fre- 
quently used and expressive word in the hands of 
Chaucer and Spenser and their contemporaries, and 



THE TllANSLATlON OF DANTE. 359 

did not disappear until after Shakspeare's time. 
The dramatist Ford used ' dolent ' in the sense of 
sad and sorrowful in his play of ' Perkin Warbeck,' 
where the 'passionate duke,' after a mishap, is 
spoken of as ' effeminately dolent.' 

" At the end of the fourteenth canto Longfellow 
dropped the last sheet into an open drawer, and ris- 
ing, with a light laugh, said, ' Now, gentlemen, 
school is over ; and we will have some refreshment 
after our labors.' The books were closed ; and the 
" scholars ' adjourned to the dining-room, where a 
supper, charmingly served, was in waiting. One or 
two other guests joined the circle ; and for about an 
hour there was a lively interchange of pleasant chat, 
piquant remarks, and gossipy anecdotes. The host 
of the evening was not talkative, but was attentive 
to every one, and had the tact to keep the conversa- 
tion lively and general. Mr. Fields had brought 
some interesting bits of publishers' gossip out from 
Boston with him, which afforded material for com- 
ment and pleasant raillery. A chance allusion to 
some literary work in progress or contemplation by 
Mr. Howells brought out graceful compliments from 
both Longfellow and Lowell, of which any young 
writer might well be proud. Mr. Longfellow in- 
quired the authorship of a recent paper in ' The 
Atlantic : ' and, upon being told by Fields that it was 
a young writer of New- York City, he was strongly 
urged by Lowell to ' make much of him,' as he saw 
in his work evidence of much promise. Fields made 
a semi-humorous complaint that Lowell, as editor of 
'The North American Review,' had savagely cut up a 



360 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

biography of an eminent author by one not so emi- 
nent, that Fields had recently published. Lowell 
retorted, in equally good-natured banter, that Fields 
deserved no consideration ; for he knew better than 
to publish a book which was not only poor in itself, 
but pernicious in that it stood in the way of a better 
work on the subject being made hereafter. Fields 
put it to tlie company whether it was treating a 
publisher fairly to make his own periodical destroy the 
value of a book published by himself. ' I assure you,' 
he exclaimed in a humorousl}^ aggrieved tone, ' that 
from the day Lowell's article appeared, not a single 
copy of the book has been sold. I arraign Lowell as 
a murderer, for he completely killed the " Life." ' 

" ' It died a-borning, and I but hammered the nails 
into its coffin,' replied Lowell ; and a general laugh 
followed, one of the heartiest laughers being the 
publisher. 

" Before the repast was ended, one of Longfellow's 
sons came in, a slim young fellow, full of boyish 
vivacity and ready talk. It was pleasant to note the 
attention paid by the father to his account of what 
he had been doing, and how he had enjoyed himself 
during the visit from which he had just returned, 
and the interest manifested by questions he put to 
draw the young man out. 

" All pleasures come to an end at some time. The 
guests rose, prepared themselves for the wintry night 
air ; and after a warm hand-clasp, and cordial invita- 
tion to repeat the evening's experience, each took 
his homeward way. In my case it was towards 
Elm wood, where, in front of the bright fire of blazing 



THE THAN SLAT ION OF DANTE. 361 

logs on the library-hearth, I sat until nearly one 

o'clock in the morning, discussing Dante and his 

translators, past and present, or rather listening in 

absorbed attention to the talk on the subject by 

Professor Lowell, as he smoked his pipe. 

" Three or four months later the first volume of 

' The Divine Comedy,' containing the ' Inferno,' was 

published ; and I prepared a review of it. A marked 

copy was sent to the publishers, as customary. Very 

soon after, I was both surprised and gratified by the 

receipt of the following letter, which is given exactly 

as written, with the peculiarity of punctuation of the 

original : — 

Cambridge, May 14, 1867. 

My dear Sir, I have had the pleasure of receiving 
the Cleveland Herald containing j^our most friendly and 
sympathetic notice of my translation of the Divine Com- 
edy, and I hasten to thank you for your great kindness. 

The notice is excellent, bringing forward just the points 
I should wish to have touched upon. It is positive and 
not negative ; and will not fail to do the work much good. 

It is difficult to thank one for praise ; so let me thank 
you rather for telling your readers what I have tried to 
do, and how far, in your opinion, I have succeeded. 

Our pleasant Wednesday evenings are now ended, for 
the present at least ; but I liope in the autumn, on some 
pretext or other, we shall begin again ; and that we may 
once more have the pleasure of seeing you among us. 

Lowell is well ; and we are urging him to take up the 
Canzoni, which I really hope he will do. 

With ojreat regard 

Yours truly 

HENKY W. LONGFELLOW. 
J. H. A. Bone, Esq. 



362 HENEY WADSWOE.TH LONGFELLOW. 

The translation was published in three volumes 
in 1867, by Ticknor and Fields of Boston. In the 
same year, Professor Norton published his version of 
Dante's " Vita Nuova," and Mr. T. W. Parsons his 
translation of the " Inferno." Mr. Longfellow's work 
was hailed with admiration by all scholars, and both 
at home and abroad was regarded the best translation 
of Dante in the English language. In Cambridge, 
the home of the poet, it suggested the organization 
of a Dante society, — the first, I believe, on this conti- 
nent. The first meeting was held on Feb. 11, 1881; 
and, at a later meeting, Mr. Longfellow was chosen 
president. He accepted the honor on condition that 
no duties should be imposed upon him. The main 
object of the Dante Society is, to establish at Har- 
vard College a collection of Dantesque literature ; 
and one of the minor objects is, to translate such 
works of Dante as have not already appeared in 
English. The membership of the society numbers 
about fifty. 



THE LAST TEN YEARS. 363 



CHAPTER XVI. 

THE LAST TEN YEARS. 
{1871-1881.) 

YERY much like "The Last Tournament," of 
Mr. Tennyson, Mr. Longfellow's "Divine 
Tragedy," ^ published in 1871, is part of a series of 
poems. It was the poet's idea to write a dramatic 
trilogy, of which " The Divine Tragedy " was to be 
the first part, "The Golden Legend" was to be the 
second part, and " The New-England Tragedies " 
the concluding part. Of the last two parts of the 
trilogy mention has been previously made in this 
work ; and little more remains to be said of them, 
except to remark, that, in the light of " The Divine 
Tragedy," they seem to gain new force and meaning. 
As regards " The Divine Tragedy," it is simply 
the life of Christ told by a poet in blank verse very 
nearly in the words of the evangelists. Perhaps 
most persons would prefer the simple gospel narra- 
tive to the poetic re-arrangement of the same, which 
is truly not much of an improvement over the 
former, albeit that it is characterized by much grace, 
and is not wanting in reverence. A critic, who I 
presume is Mr. Howells, has written, " The reader, 

1 The Divine Tragedy. By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
Boston: J. R. Osgood & Co. 1871. [8vo, pp. 313.] 



364 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

looking back upon the poem, will be more apt to do 
it justice than at the first glance. The simplicity 
will probably have seemed bare at times ; and the 
self-denial which has rejected from the dramatic nar- 
rative all non-scriptural persons and incidents, and 
has so sparingly relieved the gospel history by the 
invention of the interludes, may have been felt as too 
severe. A better sense of the poet's intention ought 
to remove these impressions ; and revision will light 
up the many points at which it touches the life of 
the time, such as Pilate's Roman mystification at the 
strange religion of the Jews, and his pagan surprise 
at their intolerance. . , . There is a peculiar unrest 
in the poem, which lets it dwell upon no fact with 
extraordinary fulness : it hastens forward to the most 
tragic of all tragic ends. You must turn back, as 
we have said, for its true effects ; and in this review 
you will most enjoy the tender and vivid passages 
in it." 

In 1872 "The New-England Tragedies," "The 
Golden Legend," and " The Divine Tragedy " were 
published in one volume, under the title of " Christus, 
a Mystery." For some unexplained reason, the pub- 
lishers have never included these productions in the 
popular and complete edition of Longfellow's poems. 

Li his " Three Books of Song," ^ which came out 
in the summer of 1872, Mr. Longfellow again ap- 
peared at his best. The volume contained, among 
other pieces, the second series of " Tales of a Way- 
side Inn," which in many respects were fully as 

1 Three Books of Song. By Henry Wadswortli Longfellow, 
Boston: James R. Osgood & Co. 1872. [16 mo, pp. 204.] 



THE LAST TEN YEARS. 365 

readable as the first series. In "• The Legend Beauti- 
ful " one finds a most exquisite embodiment of the 
poet's religious sense, and it is impossible to read it 
without feeling one's self drawn more and more 
closely in sympathy with its author. There is not, 
in fact, a single piece in the volume which is not 
thoroughly gifted with a charm, such as generations 
of readers have learned to expect from whatever 
Mr. Longfellow chose to write : color, harmony, sim- 
IDlicity, sweetness, beauty, — all of these qualities 
pervade the pages of what one is tempted to pro- 
nounce the best book of the poet's declining years. 

During the summer of 1873, Mr. Longfellow, 
accompanied by Charles Sumner, paid his first visit 
to the old Longfellow homestead in Newbury, Mass. 
He went thither from Nahant, where, since about 
1850, he was accustomed to pass the heated summer 
months. After viewing the spot, the two friends 
were the guests of Ben: Perley Poore, at his home 
at Indian Hill ; and, when lunch was over with, they 
were given a ride to Amesbury, where they hoped to 
see Mr. Whittier. Strange as it may seem, the poets, 
although cherishing for each other the kindest re- 
gards, rarely met. As far back as 1845, however, 
they had become acquainted. Fortunately Mr. Whit- 
tier was at home, and in his simple, easy, and unaf- 
fected manner, received his visitors most kindly. 
During the hour, Mr. Whittier exhibited an anti- 
slavery document which he had signed forty years 
before ; and this led to a pleasant conversation in 
regard to what the three men had done to advance 
the cause of the slave. 



366 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

In the autumn of 1873 the volume called "After- 
math " 1 was published. It contained Part Third of 
" The Tales of a Wayside Inn," which, like the 
earlier series, were simply stories, teaching by inci- 
dent and character, and often not teaching at all. 
The volume also contained a few shorter poems, 
many of which had previously appeared in " The 
Atlantic Monthly." One of the most striking of 
these, because full of feeling, was that entitled 
" Changed." If possible, however, that called " Af- 
termath" was more lovely. It reads as follows: — 

" When the summer fields are mown, 
When the birds are fledged and flown, 

And the dry leaves strew the path ; 
With the falling of the snow, 
With the cawing of the crow. 
Once again the fields we mow 

And gather in the aftermath. 

Not the sweet, new^ grass with flowers 
Is this harvesting of ours ; 

Not the upland clover-bloom ; 
But the rowen mixed with weeds, 
Tangled tufts from marsh and meads, 
Where the poppy di'ops its seeds 

Tn the silence and the gloom." 

Something of the spirit and movement apparent 
in several of Mr. Longfellow's earlier poems are 
reproduced in " The Challenge," " The Haunted 
Chamber," and " The Meeting." Of the tales, that 
called " Scanderbeg," told by the Spanish Jew, and 
" The Rhyme of Sir Christopher," told by the land- 

' 1 Aftermath. By H. W. Longfellow. Boston: J. R. Osgood & 
Co. 1873. 



THE LAST TEN YEARS. 367 

lord, are thoroughly in the style of their author. 
The theologian's tale, called " Elizabeth," is probably 
the most enjoyable in the book. 

In 1874 appeared " The Hanging of the Crane," ^ 
a poem which was suggested to Mr. Longfellow by 
the old French custom of placing that now obsolete 
contrivance in the kitchen chimney of a young 
couple at their house-warming. But the poem "is 
really a pensive imagination of the life that expands 
with the family table, as the children come, one after 
another, to demand its enlargement, and that con- 
tracts as they grow up and pass one by one out of 
the old home, till the father and mother sit at last 
as they sat at first, and face each other across the 
table alone." 

This poem originally graced the columns of " The 
New- York Ledger," from whose editor, we are told 
by Mr. Samuel Ward, Mr. Longfellow received four 
thousand dollars. In this case, evidently, the poet's 
name was more thought of than the poet's work ; for 
" The Hanging of the Crane " is neither one of Mr. 
Longfellow's best, nor is it a great poem at all. Like 
the " Children," it abounds in just those qualities 
which please the popular mind, however ; and everi 
if one cannot confess to finding much of the true 
poetic feeling in the stanzas, one is somehow greatly 
captivated by the strains of alternate playfulness 
and sadness which are delicately interwoven into 
them. Perhaps a single word will best characterize 
the production, — sweetness. 

1 The Hanging of the Crane. By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 
With illustrations. Boston: J. R. Osgood & Co. 1874. 



368 HENRY WADSWOilTH LONGFELLOW. 

In the following year this poem re-appeared in a 
new volume entitled " The Masque of Pandora." ^ 
The poem which gave the title to the book is rather 
a poetic drama, which in 1880 Miss Blanche Roose- 
velt proposed to Mr. Longfellow to have produced 
upon the stage. The poem was then recast ; a score 
was written by Mr. Alfred Cellier ; a company was 
organized, of which Miss Roosevelt assumed the 
leading role ; and the piece was put upon the stage 
in Boston, in January, 1880. The enterprise proved 
a complete failure, as all good judges had predicted, 
from the utter lack of attraction in the play itself, 
and the mediocre ability of those who took part in 
it. It was said at the time that Mr. Longfellow was 
considerably out of pocket by the transaction. 

In the same volume was printed the poem " Mori- 
turi Salutamus," several minor poems, and four- 
teen sonnets. Of the sonnets, those entitled " Three 
Priends of Mine " are undoubtedly the finest. They 
refer to Summer, Felton, and Agassiz. Says a 
graceful critic, "• There are few more touching lines 
in allTiterature than those that close the sonnet to 
Charles Sumner : — 

" ' Thou hast but taken thy lamp and gone to bed ; 
I stay a little longer, as one stays 
To cover up the embei's that still burn.' 

" Longfellow is wonderful in these homely felici- 
ties : reproach him as you please for excessive har- 
moniousness, — a swan overladen with song, — there 

1 The Masque of Pandora, and other Poems. By Henry Wads- 
worth Longfellow. Loston: J. E. Osgood & Co. 1875. [IG mo, pp. 
14G.J 






v_J^*v>>vAd 






THE LAST TEN YEARS. 369 

is a spiritual sweetness that penetrates like the odor 
of aloe-wood, a richness as of ambergris, a reverence 
for things holy and absent, that is not so much 
unction as awe." ^ 

The " Five of Clubs " had ceased to exist, and one 
by one the friends of Longfellow's early manhood 
were passing away. Felton, who in 1860 had become 
president of Harvard University, died at Chester, 
Penn., in February, 1862. He it was whom Long- 
fellow thus addresses in one of those masterly son- 
nets, entitled " Three Friends of Mine : " — 

" Oh, what hadst thou to do with cruel Death, 
Who wast so full of life, or Death with thee, 
That thou shouldst die before thou hadst grown old ! " 

On Dec. 14, 1873, Professor Agassiz died at Cam- 
bridge. Probably no other one man, except Hugh 
Miller, had done more to popularize science ; and no 
other teacher had trained so many young and rising 
naturalists. Agassiz was not only a scientific thinker, 
but still more a scientific force ; and in his personal 
intercourse he invariably inspired all with a love of 
knowledge for the sake of knowledge. Longfellow 
mourned the death of his friend with a sorrowful 
heart : the departure left a void which could not be 
filled by another. 

" Ah! why shouldst thou be dead, wheu couimou mea 

Are busy with their trivial affairs, 

Having and holding? Why, when thou hadst read 
Nature's mysterious manuscript, and then 

Wast ready to reveal the truth it bears. 

Why art thou silent? Why shouldst thou be dead? " 

1 Professor J. A. Harrison of the University of Virginia. 



370 



HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 



In the following year death came and took away 
still another friend, the one most loved and most 
tenderly welcomed at the poet's home, — Charles 




^X-.^ 



Cnailes Sumner. 



Sumner, who died at Washington on March 11, 1874. 

"Good-night! good-night! as we so oft have said 
Beneath this roof at midnight, in the days 
That are no more, and shall no more return." 

At the time of his decease, Mr. Sumner was em- 
ploying his spare hours in tlie preparation of a com- 
plete edition of his works, which had been in course 



THE LAST TION VKAUS, 371 

of publication since 1870.^ Mr. Sumner lived long 
enough to see nine volumes in print; and the re- 
mainder of the work was carried on by his literary 
executors, jNIessrs. H. W. Longfellow, F. V. Balch, 
and E. L. Pierce, in conjunction with Mr. Owen and 
Mr. George Nichols, both of Cambridge. Messrs. 
Lee and Shepard of Boston are the publishers of tliis 
monumental enterprise, which will easily take rank 
with the most superb series of books of modern times. 
The series is now completed in fifteen elegant crown 
octavo volumes, and comprises Mr. Sumner's orations, 
senatorial addresses, letters and papers through his 
entire public career, from July, 1845, until the period 
of his death. The matter is arranged chronologically, 
and with the author's latest revisions. No literary 
enterprise probably ever passed through more careful 
and conscientious supervision, and no grander monu- 
ment was ever reared to the memory of a true and 
noble man. 

In the summer of 1875, all but two of the surviv- 
ing members of the Bowdoin class of 1825 — eleven 
in all — again met at Brunswick, to celebrate the 
semi-centennial of the class. Mr. Longfellow was 
present, and read his marvellous poem, " Morituri 
Salutamus," — '' perhaps the grandest hymn to age 
that was ever written." The poem was read in 
the church meeting-house, before a large audience. 
*' Though we are at present apart," wrote Dr. Shepley 
afterwards, " and months have elapsed, we often seem 
to ourselves, even now, as when we were gathered 

1 The Works of Charles Suuiuer. In 15 volumes, lioston: Lee 

& Shepard. 1S70-1882. 



372 HENKY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

about him, to be still standing listening to the words 
of his greeting, — 

" ' And now, my classmates ; ye remaining few 
That number not the half of those we knew, 
Ye, against whose familiar names not yet 
The fatal asterisk of death is set,' — 

And with thanks we accept, as for our use especially, 
lines kindly furnished, and made free for the use of 
all: — 

" * Be that sad year, O poet, very far 

That proves thee mortal by the little star. 
Yet since thy thoughts live daily in our own, 
And leave no heart to weep or smile alone, 
Since they are rooted in our souls, and so 
Will live forever, whither those shall go. 
Though some late asterisk may mark thy name, 
It never will be set against thy fame, 
For the world's fervent love and praise of thee 
Have starred it first with immortality.' " 

Before leaving for their respective homes, the small 
band of classmates gathered in a retired room of the 
college for the last time, "talked together a half-hour as 
of old, agreed to exchange photographs, and prayed to- 
gether." And then came the separation and farewells. 

In 1875, with the assistance of John Owen, Mr. 
Longfellow began to edit a collection of poems, to 
which was given the title of " Poems of Places." ^ 
Although the collection is one of the best ever made, 
and well deserves a place in every library, the public 
did not take to it ; and the sale of the books was 
very meagre. 

Many persons have doubtless observed that each 

1 Poems of Places. 31 volumes. Edited by H. W. Longfellow. 
Boston: James R. Osgood & Co. 1876-79. 



THE LAST TEN YEARS. 373 

succeeding volume of Mr. Longfellow affords evi- 
dences of greater simplicity in his art than the 
preceding volumes. In no sense could the term 
" exotic " be reasonably applied to his later produc- 
tions, which are invariably characterized by a degree 




James Russell Lowell. 

of freshness almost surprising. In the volume which 
he published in 1877 ^ were included a fifth flight of 
"Birds of Passage," sixteen poems in all, and among 
them the beautiful tribute to James Russell Lowell, 

1 Keramos, and otliei- Poems. Boston. 1877. 



374 



HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 




Longfellow Jug. 



entitled ''The Herons of Elmwood," a second book 
of sonnets, and fifteen translations. The longest 
piece in the volume bore the title of " Keramos ; " 

and the leading idea 
of it had been lurk- 
ing in his mind for 
many years, — far 
back to his early 
days in Portland. 
At the time when 
the poem appeared, 
the public were 
awakening to an in- 
creased sense and 
interest in the fictile art ; and it was singularly 
opportune that Mr, LongfelloAV should also evince a 
lively sympathy with the aesthetic mood. The poem 
is perfectly natural in its lines and contours ; and, 
after reading it, one 
feels that he has been 
listening to a con- 
noisseur's rapturous 
praises without be- 
ing bored by his 
critical tediousness 
in describing quali- 
ties and character- 
istics. 

It was this beauti- 
ful production which gave rise to the now famous 
"Longfellow Jug," the story of which is interesting. 
For many a day Mr. Richard Briggs, the well-known 




Longfellow Jug. 



THE LAST TEN YEARS. 375 

Boston dealer in pottery ware, had desired to make 
something of this sort ; so, when the poem was first 
published, Mr. Briggs went personally to England, 
to the celebrated works of Josiah Wedgwood & Sons, 
in Staffordshire, and commissioned them to make a 
" Longfellow Jug " in Wedgwood ware. 

It is about seven inches in height, and is broad, 
stout, and capacious. It holds, when filled to the 
brim, about five pints ; has an honest handle ; and is, 
of course, of the usual color of Wedgwood ware. 
The accompanying pictures describe it much better 
than words. The jug exhibits two panels, one pre- 
senting a most admirable portrait of Mr. Ldngfellow, 
and the other the following familiar verse from the 
poem : — 

" Turn, turn, my wheel ! turn round and round 
Without a pause, without a sound : 

So spins the flying world away ! 
This clay, well mixed with marl and sand, 
Follows the motion of my hand : 
For some must follow, and some command, 
Though all are made of clay ! " 

One is tempted to say of the portrait, that it is one 
of the best, if not the best, that has been made of 
the poet. The remaining decorations of the jug 
comprise scrolls intertwined with flowers, on which 
are imprinted the titles of some of Mr. Longfellow's 
most popular poems : " The Golden Legend," " Hia- 
watha," "Evangeline," "Psalm of Life," etc. As a 
specimen of art production, the jug is certainly one 
of the most beautiful and desirable, and will im- 
mensely please all lovers of Mr. Longfellow's poetry. 



376 HENRY WADSWOKTH LONGFELLOW. 

The poet himself knew nothing of the affair, until 
he received the jug itself. He then wrote the fol- 
lowing characteristic letter to Mr. Briggs, which 
thus completes the story : — 

Cambkidoe, Dec 30, 1880. 

My dkar Sir, — Please accept my thanks for the 
handsome specimen of Wedgwood ware you have been 
kind enough to send me, and for the compliment you pay 
me in having had my portrait placed ui)on it, with some 
lines of mine and titles of my poems. 

This is a very pleasant and very welcome New- Year's 
gift ; and you have kept your secret so well, that I have 
been taken quite by surprise. 

I beg to assure you that I value very highly this mark 
of your consideration and regard. 

I am, my dear sir. 

Yours very truly, 

HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. 

On the 27th of February, 1879, the occasion of 
the seventy-second birthday of the poet, the children 
of Cambridge presented him with an arm-chair, made 
from the wood of the old horse-chestnut tree, made 
famous in the poem of " The Village Blacksmith."" 
The design of the chair is admirable, the color is of 
a jet black, and the upholstering is in green leather. 
The back of the chair is carved to represent horse- 
chestnut leaves and blossoms, and the same style of 
decoration appears at other points. Around the seat, 
in raised German text, are the following lines : — 




The Children's Chsir. 



THE LAST TEN YEARS. 377 

" And children coming home from school 

Look in at the open door : 
They love to see the flaming forge, 

And hear the bellows roar, 
And catch the burning sparks that fly 

Like chaft" from a threshing-floor." 

A brass plate beneath the cushion bears the follow- 
ing inscription : " To the author of ' The Village 
Blacksmith,' this chair, made from the wood of the 
spreading chestnut-tree, is presented as an expression 
of grateful regard and veneration by the children of 
Cambridge, who with their friends join in the best 
wishes and congratulations on this anniversary. Feb. 
27, 1879." 

That tender and touching poem, entitled " From 
My Arm-chair," was Mr. Longfellow's response of 
gratitude to his young friends. The last verses are 
far too beautiful not to be given here. 

" And thus, dear children, have ye made for me 
This day a jubilee. 

And to my more than threescore years and ten 
Brought back my youth again. 

The heart hath its own rnemory, like the mind, 
And in it ai'e enshrined 

The precious keepsakes, into which is wrought 
The giver's loving thought. 

Only your love and your remembrance could 
Give life to this dead wood. 
And make these branches, leafless now so long, 
Blossom again in song." 



378 HENRY WADSWOUTH LONGFELLOW. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH. 

{1877-1882.) 

IMMEDIATELY after the death of Professor 
Agassiz, in December, 1873, Mr. Longfellow's 
health began to decline. While his geniality of heart 
and his buoyant spirits never failed him, it was plainly 
evident to all who came in contact with him that he 
was slowly losing ground, and that his once robust 
and hardy constitution was being undermined. 
From the shock occasioned by the loss of his beloved 
friend, he never fully recovered. Still, so well did 
he conceal his sorrow and his increasing infirmity, 
only those who were in daily intercourse with him 
Avere perhaps aware of his precarious condition. For 
several years previous, he had been a victim of neu- 
ralgia ; and this affliction had caused him great suf- 
fering. Thenceforth this malady attacked him more 
frequently, with narrower intervals of cessation , and 
occasionally he would have an onset of vertigo, or 
dizziness, which would sometimes last for several 
successive days. As the years crept on, he was seen 
in the streets of Cambridge less often than formerly : 
he rarely visited any place of amusement, and never 
except on some special occasion. On a fair day, 



LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH. 379 

when the air was balmy, he would stroll off on a 
short walk ; and then it was that many of his fel- 
low-citizens would remark that the poet was surely 
failing, for his unsteady gait, his anxious step, and 
his changed features, were apparent. One could 
never forget the first and saddest blow which had 
been dealt to his trusting and devoted heart, nor 
those after-griefs, the taking away of his dearest 
friends and counsellors, that had also happened to 
mar his happiness. We felt for him as we feel only 
towards a brother : he had our deepest and most heart- 
felt symj^ath}^ and we made his sorrow our own. 
How often, as we beheld him threading his way 
along some quiet by-path, absorbed in his own medi- 
tations, have those sombre lines forced themselves 
upon the mind : — 

" Into the Silent Land ! 
Ah ! who shall lead us thither ? 
Clouds in the evening sky more darkly gather, 
And shattered wrecks lie thicker on the strand." 

In 1880 appeared the last volume of poems pre- 
pared by Mr. Longfellow. It bore the significant 
title, " Ultima Thule." ^ It contained, among other 
gems, the poem entitled "-The Iron Pen," relating 
to a pen presented to the poet by Miss Hamlin of 
Maine. Not less beautiful are the sonnet poems. 
The pen was made from a fetter of Bonnivard, tlie 
prisoner of Chillon , the handle of wood from the 
frigate " Constitution," and bound with a circlet of 
gold, inset with three precious stones from Siberia, 
Ceylon, and Maine. 

1 Ultima Thule. Boston: 1880. Houghton, Miffliu, & Co. 



380 HENEY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Dec. 28, 1880, was the two hundred and fiftieth 
anniversary of the settlement of Cambridge. It was 
celebrated by the people and school-children of the 
city. At the exercises held in Sanders Theatre Mr. 
Longfellow and Dr. O. W. Holmes were present, and 
received a genuine ovation. It was the former's last 
appearance in public. At the close of the exercises, 
the children crowded around their friend, and be- 
sought him to write his name in their albums. It 
was a most amusing spectacle, but the patience of 
the poet was inexhaustible. Over and over again he 
wrote his autograph ; and then, when he could write 
no longer, he requested all who had not received his 
signature to come to his home, and he would there 
favor them. Mr. Longfellow also spoke to the chil- 
dren the following brief but beautiful address : — 

"My dear Young Friends, — I do not rise to 
make an address to you, but to excuse myself from 
making one. I know the proverb says, that he who 
excuses himself accuses himself, — and I am willing 
on this occasion to accuse myself; for I feel very 
much as I suppose some of you do when you are 
suddenly called upon in your classroom, and are 
obliged to say that you are not prepared. I am glad 
to see your faces and to hear your voices. I am 
glad to have this opportunity of thanking you in 
prose, as I have already done in verse, for the beauti- 
ful present you made me some two years ago. Per- 
haps some of you have forgotten it, but I have not : 
and I am afraid, yes, I am afraid, that fifty years 
hence, when you celebrate the three hundredth 
anniversary of this occasion, this day and all that 



LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH. 381 

belongs to it will have passed from your memory ; 
for an English philosopher has said, that the ideas as 
well as children of our youth often die before us, 
and our minds represent to us those tombs to which 
we are approaching, where, though the brass and 
marble remain, yet the inscriptions are effaced by 
time, and the imagery moulders away." 

During the summer of 1881, it became apparent 
to his family and friends that the physical condition 
of Mr. Longfellow was such as to give cause for 
alarm. Increasing sickness added its burden rapidly 
to the weight of his nearly fourscore years. His 
walks in the streets were gradually diminished in 
number, and from this time forth he was fre^ 
quently admonished by his physician to be guarded 
in whatever bore on the problem of his health. 
When the winter season came on, he began to fail 
even more rapidly ; and for the first time in his life 
he was obliged to excuse himself to the many callers 
at his home. For nearly half a century, the old 
Craigie House had been the frame of the poet's life 
and the workshop of his genius; and from thence 
volume after volume of verses had gone forth to find 
their way to the hearts of men from Hudson's Bay 
to the shores of Australia. Across the threshold of 
its homely portal had passed in and out thousands 
of strangers, and yet, perhaps, all of them friends ; 
and invariably had they been received with the 
warmest welcome. Never under that historical roof- 
tree had the cold shoulder been turned, even upon 
the individual who came to impose on the good na- 
ture of the host. Never had the door been closed 
to man, woman, or child. 



382 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

But now, alas I the times were changed. Tired 
nature demanded rest, even against the' will of the 
sufferer. Nothing pained him so much as to be 
under the necessity of excusing himself from hi» 
friends, and more than once he remarked that it 
seemed a terrible discourtesy. To one who called to 
see him, not many days before his going from our 
midst, but was not allowed an interview, Mr. Long- 
fellow thus wrote : — 

" I am sorry that I could not have had the pleas- 
ure of seeing you when you did me the honor to call 
upon me. But I know you will excuse my inability, 
when I assure you that I am a great sufferer at the 
present time. I know not whether I shall pull 
through, but I have as much hope as had the old 
bishop of Salamanca." 

And to another friend he writes, — 

"I am fit for nothing just now, not even to com- 
plain. But I am trying to make the most of my 
idleness — shall I call it delicious? — which the 
present condition of my health imposes upon me." 

In mid-winter I sent to the poet by messenger 
another old ballad on " LovewelFs Fight ; " and in 
the note which accompanied it I ventured the sug- 
gestion that perhaps it might be the one which we 
had been seeking some years before, for it contained 
the verses which the poet had always carried in his 
memory, namely, — 

" * I'll kill you, Chamberlain," quoth he, 
'And scalp you when you're dead.' " 

A few days later came the poet's response, writ- 
ten on the back of a card, and accompanied by a 



LAST ILLNESS AND DKATH. 383 

small volume which he wished me to examine. It 
reads as follows : — 

" Not yet. But you are indefatigable, and I know 
that you will find it. When you next write to 

L , assure him that I have not forgotten his 

kindness." ^ 

Feb. 27, 1882, the seventy-fifth birthday of the poet 
was generally celebrated all over the country. The 
children of the public schools took a large part in 
these exercises, and appeared to vie with their elders 
in the desire to honor the occasion. In Portland the 
whole people took the matter in hand to tender a 
public reception to Mr. Longfellow. The following 
correspondence was passed. 

Portland, Jan. 10, 1882. 

My dear Sir, — It is my great pleasure to enclose to 
you a copy of the resolve passed unanimously by our city 
council. It needs no assurance on my part that it will be 
very gratifying to your numerous friends in Portland to 
greet you on the occasion. The reception proposed is 
to be plain and simple. The details to be in a manner 
agreeable to yourself. 

Hoping to receive an early reply of acceptance, 

I am, most respectfully yours, 

WILLIAM SENTEE, Mayor. 
Pbofessob H. W. Longfellow. 

1 Allusion is here made to Mr. Lewis of Fryeburg, Me., who 
kindly sent me some years ago a poem on the LoA'ewell Fight, which 
I gave to Mr. Longfellow. The latter once told me that he had an 
idea of writing another poem on the subject. I observe, that, in a 
recently published brochure, Mr. Lewis publishes what he declares 
to be the long-lost ballad which Longfellow wrote in his early days. 
But it is not the poem. 



384 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Cambridge, Jan. 12, 1882. 
My dear Sir, — I have had the pleasure of receiving 
your letter with its enclosed copy of the resolutions of 
the cit}' authorities of Portland in reference to my seventy- 
fifth birthday. I hasten to thank you and them for the 
honor conferred upon me. I hardly need assure you, my 
dear sir, that this mark of consideration from my native 
city is very gratifying to me, and regret extremely, that, 
on account of ill-health, I am forced to decline the public 
reception offered me. My physician prescribed absolute 
rest ; and I do not see any chance of my being able to go 
to Portland in February, so slow is recovery from nervous 
prostration. 

I am, my dear sir, with great regard. 
Yours faithfully, 

HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. 

Oil account of Mr. Longfellow's inability to be 
present, the celebration was abandoned by the city 
authorities. Afterwards, a meeting of the Maine 
Historical Society was called, at which it was decided 
to honor the day by appropriate exercises. At the 
hour appointed for the exercises, in the evening of 
the 27th, a large audience had gathered. In the 
absence of the president, Hon. W. G. Barrows of 
Brunswick, the vice-president of the society, presided, 
and opened the meeting by a suitable introductory 
address. On motion, the following telegram was 
sent to the poet : — 

Portland, Feb. 27. 
To H. W. Longfellow, Camhrklrje, Mass. 

The members of the Maine Historical Society, assem- 
bled with friends in honor of your seventy-fifth birthday, 
send greetings and congratulations. 



LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH. 386 

The following reply was soon received : — 

Cambridge, Feb. 27. 
H. W. Bryant, Recording Secretary. 

Your telegram received. 1 return cordial thanks to the 
members of the society, and am grateful for this signal 
mark of their remembrance and regard. 

HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. 

The exercises consisted of a poem, entitled " Laus 
Laureati,'' by James P. Baxter, Esq., of Portland^ 
and interesting historical papers by Rev. H. S. Bur- 
rage and E. H. Elwell, Esq., and Hon. George F. 
Talbot of Portland, and Hon. William Goold of 
Windham, and Professor A. S. Packard, D.D., of 
Brunswick. Altogether, the occasion was one long 
to be remembered, and worthy of all who labored 
to insure its success. 

The fierce winds of March had begun to blow over 
the meadows along the Charles ; and, as the clouds 
of dust arose on every hand, the poet looked out of 
his study-windows, and queried whether it were safe 
to pay one more visit to that friend of his childhood 
and of his old age, — Mr. John Owen. For many 
years back, the poet and his faithful '' J. O." had 
treasured in mind the recurring anniversaries of the 
birthdays of each other. These anniversaries were 
always remembered by the bestowal of some little 
token of their love and friendship ; and the time 
intervening each year between the birthdays was 
by the friends called their "honeymoon," for then 
they could say that they were of the same age. 

It was while he was looking out of the window. 



386 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

on one of the surly, blustering days of the early 
March, that the poet bethought hhii again of the 
pleasant anniversary which he had himself just 
passed, and of that forthcoming anniversary, vrhich, 
if it should please God, he so much wished to cele- 
brate with his friend. It yet lacked about three 
week^ before the 28th of March, and on that day 
Mr. Owen would have reached his seventy-sixth 
birthday. It was not a long look ahead ; and yet the 
poet, as if foreseeing something that was about to 
happen, chose to prepare for the event instead of 
waiting for its coming. On that same day he sent 
to Mr. Owen a few presents, — he knew what would 
be most appreciated, — and among them a bottle of 
Falernian, or poet's wine. On the label, written in 
Ink, was the familiar inscription, — " H. W. L. to 
J. O." It was the poet's intention to send to his friend 
a sonnet before the month should end ; but, alas ! the 
opportunity and the inspiration never came. 

On Saturday, the 18th of March, Mr. Longfellow 
received his last visitors, two Boston lads, who came 
to Cambridge by the express invitation of the poet. 
On their arrival at the Craigie House, they were 
treated in the most kindly spirit, were shown all the 
objects of interest ; and finally each bore away in his 
little album the autograph of their friend, and the 
friend of ail children. The recollection of that visit 
will ever be treasured by the boys. 

After his child-visitors had gone, the poet allowed 
himself to take a brief stroll on the piazza. It was 
quite late in the afternoon, and before many minutes 
had elapsed he observed that the rawness of the 



LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH. 387 

atmosphere was affecting him with chilliness. On 
going into the house, he complained a little of feel- 
ing cold, but added that he should probably feel bet- 
ter shortly. While he was at dinner, his condition 
grew worse ; and he arose and went to his room, 
where shortly afterwards he was seized with a violent 
attack of vertigo. This was accompanied or followed 
by vomiting, which so alarmed the members of the 
family that it was thought best to summon Dr. Morrill 
Wyman. During the evening Mr. Longfellow com- 
plained bitterly of severe pains in the abdomen, and 
it was deemed necessary to administer opiates in 
order to allay the discomfort and to induce sleep. 

During Sunday marked signs of improvement 
were manifested ; and it was assumed that the poet 
was no longer in danger, providing the disease should 
remain without further complication. When Mon- 
day came, however, unexpected symptoms set in ; and 
the patient's condition became such as to seriously 
alarm the attendants. In the evening these symp- 
toms increased in severity, and on the following 
Tuesday morning it became evident to the house- 
hold that the end was approaching. Notwithstand- 
ing that a report of the poet's illness had crept into 
the local newspapers, few persons appeared to be 
alarmed by it ; and to a very large number of even 
his immediate friends the announcement of his im- 
pending death was sudden and inexplicable. 

During Wednesday and Thursday, there was a 
very slight improvement in Mr. Longfellow's condi- 
tion, — but it afforded no grounds for hope, — and 
there was also a constant disposition to sleep. On the 



388 HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

evening of the last-named day, he rallied considera- 
bly, and evinced a desire to talk on various subjects. 
His mind appeared to be fully rational, and he mani- 
fested no lack of cheer and' no signs of uneasiness. 
Towards midnight, however, the situation was again 
changed ; and the patient became unconscious and 
could find no rest. 

On Friday morning, the 24th of March, Mr. Long- 
fellow again revived a little. He complained of no 
pain ; but, during his lucid moments, he seemed to 
know, and to wish others to realize, that the end was 
approaching. His conversation through the day was 
somewhat incoherent, and at times he appeared not 
to be conscious of what he was saying. His disease 
(peritonitis) was now fully developed , and the at- 
tending physicians, despairing of the case, made 
known their fears to the family. About two o'clock 
the poet suddenly lapsed into a state of unconscious- 
ness, and in this condition he remained until the 
close. He breathed his last, easily and apparently 
without pain, at ten minutes past three o'clock. He 
passed away " in a full age, like as a shock of corn 
Cometh in in his season." 

Standing around the bedside of the poet were the 
members of hts family: his three daughters, Alice, 
Edith, and Annie •, his two sons, Charles A. and 
Ernest W. j his brother, Alexander W. of Portland; 
his sisters, Mrs. James Greenleaf of Cambridge, and 
Mrs. Pierce of Portland ; his brother-in-law, Mr. 
Thomas G. Appleton, and a few others. 

The same bells that a few months before had made 
known to the people of Cambridge at midnight, in a 



LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH. 389 

befitting darkness and gloom, that the President of 
the United States was dead, now told them, while 
the bright sun was shining and the spring was open- 
ing, that Henry Wadsworth Longfellow had peace- 
fully finished his honorable career within the house 
where he had long lived, and in the city which will 
ever cherish a tender pride in having been his home. 

" His soul to him, who gave it, rose ; 
God lead it to its long repose, 

Its glorious rest ! 
And though the poet's sun has set, 
Its light shall linger round us yet, 

Bright, radiant, blest." 

The last rites were fitting, and in harmony with 
what would have been — could he have expressed it 
— the last wish of the poet. They united the undis- 
turbed retirement which the family and personal 
friends of the dead ever desire and have a right to 
possess, with that opportunity which the public seeks 
to pay its homage to one whom it has loved and 
honored. From the hour of his death to the burial, 
the city flags were displaj^ed at half-mast, and the 
public buildings and many private dwellings were 
draped with emblems of mourning. Everybody 
seemed to lament the event as a common misfortune. 

On Sunday, the 26th of March, at three o'clock, 
private funeral services were held at the home of the 
deceased. Among those present were, besides the 
family and immediate relatives, Ralph Waldo Emer- 
son and daughter, Oliver Wendell Holmes, George 
William Curtis, Rev. Cyrus A. Bartol of the West 
Church, Boston, Samuel Ward of New York, Presi- 



390 HENRY WADSWOKTH LONGFELLOW. 

dent Eliot of Harvard University, Alexander Agas- 
siz, John Owen, Dr. Morrill Wyman, and others, 
numbering in all about fifty. 

The remains were laid in a plain casket covered 
with broadcloth, embossed with black ornaments. 
On the top of the casket were placed two long palm 
leaves crossed ; and encircling the casket was a rim 
of the passion-flower vine, bearing one beautiful 
blossom. The silver plate bore the inscription : — 

HENRY W. LONGFELLOW, 

BORN FEBRUARY 27tH, 1807. 
DIED MARCH 24tH, 1882. 

The services at the house were conducted by the 
Rev. Samuel Longfellow, brother of the poet, and 
were opened with a short prayer, followed by the 
reading of the following selections from Mr. Long- 
fellow's poems. The first selection was from " The 
Golden Legend : " — 

" Weep not, my friends ! rather rejoice with me. 
I shall not feel the pain, bvit shall be gone, 
And you will have another friend in heaven. 
Then start not at the creaking of the door 
Through which I pass. I see what lies beyond it." 

The second selection was the poem entitled "Sus- 

piria." 

" Take them, O Death ! and bear away 
Whatever thou canst call thine own ! 
Thine image, stamped upon this clay, 
Doth give thee that, but that alone ! 

Take them, O Grave ! and let theni lie 
Folded upon thy narrow shelves. 

As garments by the soul laid by., 
And precious only to ourselves. 



LAST ILLNKSS AND DEATH. 391 

Take them, O great Eternity! 

Our little life is but a gust 
That bends the branches of thy tree, 

And trails its blossoms in the dust ! " 

The third selection was tlie following : — 

" All is of God ! If he but wave his hand. 

The mists collect, the rain falls thick and loud, 
Till, with a smile of light on sea and land, 
Lo ! he looks back from the departing cloud. 

Angels of Life and Death alike are his ; 

Without his leave they pass no threshold o'er ; 
Who, then, would wish or dare, believing this. 

Against his messengers to shut the door ? " 

Two hymns were sung by the quartet, with 
piano accompaniment. The second hymn, " Softly 
Now the Light of Day," concluded the ceremonies. 

The funeral cortege of seventeen carriages then 
proceeded up Brattle Street to Mount Auburn Ceme- 
tery. At some little distance from the family tomb 
on Indian-Ridge path, the carriages halted ; and the 
company of mourners walked slowly to the spot 
where, while the snowflakes were falling,' the body 
was quietly deposited in its last resting-place.^ A 
profusion of evergreen was then laid within the 
enclosure ; and the following passages from the 
Scriptures were repeated by the Rev. Mr. Long- 
fellow : — 

" O Death, where is thy sting ? O Grave, where 
is thy victory ? Dust thou art, unto dust shalt thou 

1 The poet's grave is in the family lot, numbered " 580," on Indian 
Ridge Path. At present neither headstone nor monument marks the 
spot. 



392 HEXRY WADSWOPvTH LONGB^ELLOW. 

return. The Lord gave and the Lord taketh away. 
Blessed be the name of the Lord." 

Meanwhile large numbers of people had gathered 
in the chapel of Harvard College, whither the 
mourners were immediately taken after the conclu- 
sion of the simple ceremony at the grave. Every 
seat in the chapel, except those reserved for the 
family and friends, was already filled ; and every 
available standing-place was also occupied. Many 
persons were unable to gain admission into the 
building. 

On a table in front of the altar was a beautiful 
harp, composed of smilax and white and yellow 
flowers, with one broken string. The impressive 
exercises commenced with Mendelssohn's " Beati 
Mortui," by the college-choir, with organ accompani- 
ment by Professor Paine. The Rev. Francis G. 
Peabody, formerly pastor of the First Unitarian 
Church of Cambridge, and now a professor in the 
Harvard Divinity School, then read the ninetieth 
Psalm, also " I am the resurrection and the life," 
■" we know in part and prophesy in part," and these 
stanzas from that most beautiful poem, " Resigna- 
tion : " — 

" We see but diinly through the mists and vapors ; 
Amid these earthly damps 
What seem to vxs but sad, funereal tapers 
May be heaven's distant lamps. 

There is no Death ! What seems so is transition ; 

This life of mortal breath 
Is but a suburb of the life elysiau, 

Whose portal we call Death." 



LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH. 393 

A selection from 2 Sam. xxiii. was next read: — 

" Now these be the last words of David, the man 
who was raised up on high, the anointed of the God 
of Jacob, and the sweet psalmist of Israel. 

" The spirit of the Lord spake by me, and his word 
was in my tongue. 

" The God of Israel said, the Rock of Israel spake 
to me. He that ruleth over men must be just, ruling 
in the fear of God. 

" And he shall be as the light of the morning, when 
the sun riseth, even a morning without clouds ; as 
the tender grass springing out of the earth by clear 
shining after rain." 

From " Hiawatha " were read the lines beginning 
with that verse which is true of Longfellow above 
all modern poets : — 

" He the sweetest of all singers. 
Beautiful and childlike was he, 
Brave as man is, soft as woman, 
Pliant as a wand of willow, 
Stately as a deer with antlers. 

All the many sounds of natm-e 
Borrowed sweetness from his singing ; 
All the hearts of men were softened 
By the pathos of his music ; 
For he sang of peace and freedom, 
Sang of beauty, love, and longing ; 
Sang of death, and life undying 
In the land of the Hereafter. 
For his gentleness the;/ loved him 
And the magic of his singing." 

After reading the beatitudes, Professor Peabody 
concluded with the reading of those not unfamiliar 



394 HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

lines, which, perhaps, as trul}^ as any thing he ever 
wrote, embody the religious sentiment and belief of 
their author. They are taken from " The New- 
England Tragedies." 

" And I i-emember still 
The words and f)'om whom they came, 
Not he that repeateth the name 
But he that doeth the will. 

And Him evermore I behold 
Walking in Galilee, 
Through the cornfield's waving gold, 
In hamlet, in wood, and in wold, 
By the shores of the beautiful sea. 
He toucheth the sightless eyes, 
Before him the demons flee. 
To the dead he saith ', Arise,' 
To the living, ' Follow Me.' 
And that voice still soundeth on 
From the centuries that are gone 
To the centuries that shall be. 

From all vain pomps and shows. 
From the heart that overflows, 
And the false conceits of men ; 
From all the narrow rules 
And subtleties of schools, 
And the craft of tongue and pen. 
Bewildered with the search, 
Bewildered with the cry, 
Lo here ! lo there ! the Church ! 
Poor sad humanity, 
Through all the ages meet, 
Turns back with bleeding feet 
By the weary road it came, 
Unto the simple thought 



,LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH. 

By tlie Great Master taught ; 
And that remaineth still, 
Not he that repeateth the name, 
But he that doeth the will." 

The choir then sang an English version of " In- 
teger Vitse." 

The following beautiful address was then deliv- 
ered by Professor Charles Carroll Everett of the 
Harvard Divinit}^ School. 

'' In this service of sympathy and reverent sorrow, 
it is a comforting and inspiring thought that the 
feeling which has drawn us here is shared by multi- 
tudes wherever the English tongue is spoken. Man}?^, 
indeed, share it, to whom the songs of our poet are 
known only in what is to them a foreign speech. It 
shows our civilization in one of its most interesting 
aspects, that a feeling so profound, so pure, so up- 
lifting, should unite such a large portion of the world 
to-day. Here is no dazzling position, here is no start- 
ling circumstance. A simple life has uttered itself 
in song : and men listened, rejoiced, and loved ; and 
now they mourn. Yet for us there is a deeper sor- 
row. While others mourn the poet who is gone, we 
mourn the man. He was our townsman, he was our 
neighbor, he was our friend. We knew the simple 
beauty of his life : we knew its truth, its kindness, 
its helpfulness, its strength. We could not indeed 
separate him from our thought and knowledge of 
his fame and of his genius, but even this showed 
only his heart in its true beauty. We saw him wear 
the honors of the world more easily than many bear 
the smallest triumphs of our ordinary life. Thus we 



396 HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

knew him and loved him, and thus we sorrow for 
him. 

" But this difference of which I speak is, after all, 
one chiefly of degree. He poured himself into his 
songs, and wherever they went he was found with 
them ; and, in these, others found the beauty of that 
spirit which was revealed to us through his nearer 
presence. Thus he drew very near to meiuy hearts ; 
thus many who never looked upon his face feel to- 
day that they, too, have lost a friend. You remem- 
ber how sweetly and gracefully he greets these 
■unseen and unknown friends in the dedication of 
one of his books. He feels their presence, though he 
sees them not. He enters their very households, 
sure of a greeting. Then he cries, — 

" ' I hope, as no unwelcome guest, 
At the warm fireside, when the lamps are lighted, 
My place shall be reserved among the rest.' 

"The kindly request was heeded. He found a 
place in many households which he had never seen, 
and now by many a fireside it is as though there 
were one more 'vacant chair.' 

"I said he poured his life into his work. It is 
singular that the phase of life and of experience 
which forms so large a portion of most poetry, which 
many sing if they sing nothing else, he was content 
to utter in prose, if prose we must call the language 
of his romances. He seems content to have scattered 
unbound the flowers of romantic love at the door of 
the temple of his song. There is something strange, 
too, in the fascination which the thought of death 
has for so many generous youth. You remember 



LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH. 397 

that Bryant first won his faitie by a hymn to death ; 
and so, I think, tlie first poem of Longfellow's which 
won recognition for him was that translation of those 
sounding Spanish lines which exalt the majesty of 
death, and sing the shortness of human life. But 
the first song that rang with his own natural voice, 
which won the recognition of the world, was not a 
song of death, it was a Psalm of Life. That little 
volume of the ' Voices of the Night ' formed an 
epoch in our literary history. It breathed his whole 
spirit, his energy, his courage, his tenderness, his 
faith : it formed the prelude of all that should come 
after. I do not mean that he tore open the secrets 
of the heart at home ; but all is there, transfigured, 
enlarged, made universal, made the common prop- 
erty of all. We wander with him through foreign 
lands : he takes us with him into his studies, and in 
his translations gives us the very fairest fruit. We 
hear the greeting of the new-born child ; we are 
taken into the sacred joy of home ; the merry notes 
of ' The Children's Hour ' ring upon our ears ; we 
feel the pains of sorrow and of loss ; we hear the 
prayer of elevated trust ; and, when age draws near 
at last, when the shadows begin to fall, then we 
share with him the solemnity and the sublimity of 
the gathering darkness. 

" The life that is thus imaged in these songs was 
one that is fitted for such imaging. I think Ave may 
look at it as one of the most rounded lives that have 
been lived upon earth. So far as we can see from 
the outside, there seems little that was lacking to 
its completeness. I do not mean there was no sor- 



398 HEXKY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

row in it. Sorrow there was. What life could be 
made perfect without it ? What poet's life could be 
made complete without the experience of suffering? 
But, from the very first, his life flowed on its' calm 
and even way. His first songs received the applause 
of the world : the sympathy of men moved with him 
as he moved forward in his work. Travel in foreign 
lands enlarged his sympathies, and added a pictur- 
esqueness to his poems which they might otherwise 
have lacked. The literature of all ages and nations 
was opened to him, and he drew from all. It is 
said, I know, that thus he represents the culture of 
the past and that of foreign lands, — that he is not 
our poet, not American. But what is the genius of 
our country ? What is America? Is it not the very 
genius of our nation to bring together elements from 
far-off lands and fuse them into a new type of man ? 
The American poet should represent the genius of 
our land. He must have no provincial muse. He 
may sing of forest and of sea, but not of these alone. 
He must be the " heir of all the ages ; " he must be 
the ripest fruit of the culture of all time ; he must 
absorb all this into himself, and stand free, strong, 
bold, — a man as simple as though he had never 
strayed beyond his native heath. He must, in other 
words, be like our Longfellow. When what we 
may call his preparation was completed, his life still 
flowed on, its course gaining only greater and calmer 
fulness as it flowed. His age was as beautiful as 
his manhood and his youth. That marvellous poem 
'Morituri Salutamus' is perhaps to-day the grand- 
est hymn to age that was ever written. It is no 



LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH. 399 

distant dream, as it was when those sounding Span- 
ish lilies flowed from his pen. He feels its shadows, 
he feels that the night is drawing nigh, and yet he 
stands strong- and • calm and bold- as at first. He 
greets the present as he greeted in old times 'the 
future. He gathers from the coming on of age, the 
approaching night, no signal for rest, but a new sum- 
mons to activity. He cries, — 

" ' It is too late ! Ah, nothing is too late 
Till the tired heart shall cease to palpitate.' 

" And so he takes up his glad work again. I think 
some of his sweetest and deepest songs date from 
this latest period, such as the poem to Tennyson, — 
that chivalrous greeting from one knight of song 
to another, — and that tender message that he sent to 
Lowell across the seas in 'The Elmwood Herons.' 
There comes even a little playfulness, such as there 
is not much hint of in his earlier songs. His was a 
calm and loving age, full of activity, confidence, and 
peace. At last he writes upon his latest volume 
those words that marked the close of his career, and 
his labors are at an end. The Ultima Tliule has 
been reached. 

" The world's love gathered about him as he lived, 
and its homage was breathed into his ear till on his 
last birthday there was paid him an ovation such 
as has been given to few living. From his old home 
in Maine came greetings : children's voices — those 
voices which of all others had been ever most wel- 
come to his ear — joined in the acclaim; and thus 
the story of his life was completed. His last book 



400 HKNRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

had been written, and marked by him as his last. 
The final greeting of the world had been uttered to 
him, and he passed away. 

" He passed away I I think we have not yet learned 
the meaning of those words. I think we do not yet 
quite believe them. We half think still that we 
may some time meet him in his familiar haunts. 
And does not this protest of the heart contain a 
truth ? His spirit has been called, we trust, to 
higher service. Yet he had given himself unto the 
world. He had breathed himself into his songs : in 
them he is with us still. Wherever they go, as they 
wander over the world, he will be with them, a miur 
ister of love. He will be by the side of the youth, 
pointing to heights as yet unsealed, and bidding him 
have faith and courage. He will be with the wan- 
derer in foreign lands, making the beauty he sees 
more fair. He will be with the mariner upon the 
sea ; he will be with the explorer in the woods ; he 
will be in the quiet beauty of home ; he will be 
by the side of the sorrowing heart, pointing to a 
higher faith : and, as old age is gathering about the 
human soul, he will be there to whisper courage, 
still to cry, — 

" ' For age is opportunity no less than youth itself.' 

" Thus will he inspire in all faith and courage, and 
point us all to those two sources of strength that 
alone can never fail, 'heart within, and God o'er- 
head.' " 

The death of Mr. Longfellow was not unexpected, 
for hushed rumors from Cambridge had led all to 



LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH. 401 

look for his departure. It was not premature: for 
his genius had flowered, and passed his long summer ; 
and the autumnal fruit had ripened, and been gath- 
ered in. Sixty years have flown by since the first 
blossoming, and for half a century the flavor of the 
fruit has been known and recognized the world over 
for its delicacy and pure quality. Some one has as- 
serted that the poet's name went abroad but a little 
behind Irving's and Cooper's. It travelled farther 
than Bryant's, more swiftly than Hawthorne's, and 
is, to-day, across the water, dearer than any other 
name in American literature. In the pure, amiable, 
home-like qualities that reach the heart and capti- 
vate the ear, no person can place Longfellow second. 
He, more surely than any other poet, touches the 
best hopes and sweetest longings in human nature. 
He has done as much as the best to difl'use the spirit 
of ripe culture, of refined taste, — the atmosphere of 
gentle and chaste scholarship, — over a land that 
sadly needed such an atmosphere. When he was 
made a professor at Harvard, he became indeed the 
presiding genius over the belles-lettres of America; 
and the scholars throughout the country might well 
have asked the privilege of contributing to his salary. 
He taught the whole people, he chastened all minds, 
lifting even the blacksmith at the forge, the wood- 
man on the frontier, as well as the student in his 
laboratory. His volumes became a university for the 
poor and ignorant, — and they remain. 

There is scarcely a poem in these volumes that did 
not come directly from the heart of its author, and 
that does not appeal as directly to the heart of its 



402 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

reader. And how full of noble thoughts, of genial 
sentiment, of comfort and hope and sympathy, of 
kindness and trust and aspiration, are nearly all 
of them ! He looked upon life as an earnest reality, 
an arena of contest; and it was his constant- aim to 
breathe energy into fainting hearts, to sustain lag- 
ging purposes, and to fix the reader's thought upon 
what is stable and eternal. He grew up with the 
literary growth of the country, which dates no far- 
ther back than his boyhood. He was in himself a 
very essential and important factor in that growth, — 
one of the literary and moral forces of the nation. 
This is his praise. And, now that he has left us, 
we feel that he has left our literature well born, 
nobly nurtured, far-travelled, and secure of its future. 
Some writer in another generation may surpass liim 
in power or grandeur or sweetness, or any of the 
qualities which command success or give influence ; 
but no epoch of the development of our literature as 
such can possibly be more beautiful, more redolent, 
than that fine season when the breath of ancient 
learning first mingled with the crisp winds of New 
England in Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 

The story of Longfellow's life is one that will be 
rehearsed with renewed interest as the years go by. 
It is a lesson in itself as full of noble example for the 
young, as is his poetry of choice precepts. He had a 
sunny nature, which he transfused throughout all his 
writings. The turbulence that made the lives of 
Byron and of Poe miserable was unknown to him ; 
and as his life was, so is his verse, — pure, serene, 
and strong, — with the strength of the village black- 



LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH. 403 

smith's brawny arms and the tenderness of Evange- 
line's undying love. We may well be proud of such 
a poet, — proud of his productions, and doubly proud 
of the lesson of his blameless life. 



APPEISTDIX. 
LONGFELLOW BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

(The references are to the pages in this volume.) 



ESSAYS AND DISSERTATIONS. 

Origin and Progress of the French Language. North American 
Review, pp. 167-169. 

Defence of Poetry. North American Review, pp. 177-179. 

History of tlie Italian Language and Dialects. North American 
Review, p. 179. 

Spanish Devotional and Moral Poetry. North American Re- 
view, p. 179. 

Spanish Language and Literature. North American Review, 
p. 180. 

Old English Komances. North American Review, p. 180. 

The Great Metropolis. North American Review, p. 206. 

Hawthorne's Twice-Told Tales. North American Review, p. 211. 

TegneVs Frithiofs Saga. North American Review, p. 213. 

Anglo-Saxon Literature. North American Review, p. 214. 

The French Language in England. North American Revieiv, 
p. 259. 

Criticism on the Works of Willis Gaylord Clark. North Ameri- 
can Review, p. 289. 

TEXT BOOKS. 

Elements of French Grammar. Translated from the French of 
C. F. L'Homond, p. 166. 
Syllabus de la Grammaire italienne. 1. Le Ministre de Wake- 

405 



406 LONGFELLOW BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

field. 2. Proverbes Dramatiques, p. 176. Saggi de' Novellieri 
Italian! d'ogni Secolo: Tratti da' piu celebri Scrittori, con brevi 
Notizie intorno alia Vita di ciascheduno, p. 176. 

VOLUMES OF POETRY AND ROMANCE. 

Coplas de Manrique. A translation from the Spanish, p. 
180. 

Outre-Mer: A Pilgrimage beyond the Sea. 2 vols., p. 182. 

Hyperion: a Romance. 2 vols., p. 226. 

Voices of the Night, p. 250. 

Ballads and other Poems, p. 259. 

Poems on Slavery, p. 275. 

The Spanish Student, p. 286. 

[Editor.] The Waif, p. 292. 

[Editor.] The Poets and Poetry of Europe, p. 290. 

The Belfry of Bruges, and other Poems, p. 294. 

[Editor.] The Estray, p. 296. 

Evangeline, p. 297. 

Kavanagh, j). .314. 

The Seaside and the Fireside, p. 315. 

The Golden Legend, p. 317. 

The Song of Hiawatha, p. 320. 

The Courtship of Miles Standish, p. 334. 

Tales of a Wayside Inn, p. 342. 

Flower-de-Luce, p. 344. 

New-England Tragedies. I. John Endicott. II. Giles Corey 
of the Salem Farms, p. 344. 

Dante's Divina Commedia. I. Inferno. 11. Purgatorio. III. 
Paradiso, p. 362. 

The Divine Tragedy, p. 363. 

Christus, A Mystery. I. The Divine Tragedy. II. The Golden 
Legend. III. The New-England Tragedies, p. 364. 

Three Books of Song, p. 364. 

Aftermath, p. 366. 

The Masque of Pandora, and other Poems, p. 368. 

[Editor.] Poems of Places, p. 372. 

Keramos, and other Poems, p. 373. 

Ultima Thule, p. 379. 

After Mr. Longfellow's death were published, — 
In the Harbor, and other Poems, 16mo, 1882. 



LONGFELLOW BIBLIOGKAPHY. 407 

Michel Angelo: a Tragedy. (First printed in "The Atlantic 
Montlily" for January, February, March, 1883.) 

Numerous collected editions have appeared, both at home and 
abroad. Of these, perhaps tlie most notable and elaborate was 
the following: — 

The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, con- 
taining a superb new steel portrait by William E. Marshall (from 
the photograph taken by Solomon, in Paris), and illustrated by 
more than six hundred wood-engravings, designed expressly for 
the Avork by the best American artists. (Houghton, Mifflin, & Co., 
Boston, 1881.) 

TRANSLATIONS OP MR. LONGFELLOW'S WORKS. 

ENGLISH. 

Noel. [A French poem by Longfellow in Flower-de-Luce.] 
Translated by J. E.Norcross. [Philadelphia, 1867. Large paper. 
Fifty copies printed.] 

GEEMAN. 

Englische Gedichte aus neuerer Zeit. Freiligrath, Ferdinand 
. , . H. W. Longfellow. . . . [Stuttgardt und Tubingen, 1846.] 

Longfellow's Gedichte. Ubersetzt von Karl Bcittger. [Dessau, 
1856.] 

Balladen nnd Lieder von H. W. Longfellow. Deutsch von 
A. R. Nielo. [Munster, 1857.] 

Longfellow's Gedichte. Von Friedrich Marx. [Hamburg and 
Leipzig, 1868.] 

Longfellow's altera xmd neuere Gedichte in Auswald. Deutsch 
von Adolf Laun. [Oldenburg, 1879.] 

Der spanische Studente. Ubersetzt von Karl Bottger. [Des- 
sau, 1854.] 

The same. Von Maria Hel^ne Le Maistre. [Dresden, n. d.] 

The same. Ubersetzt von Hafeli. [Leipzig, n. d.] 

Evangeline. Aus dem Englischen. [Hamburg, 1857.] 

The same. Arts dem Englischen, von P. J. Belke. [Leipzig, 
1854.] 

The same. Eine Erzahlung aus Acadien, von Eduard Nickles. 
[Karlsruhe, 1862.] 

The same. Ubersetzt von Frank Siller. [Milwaukee, 1879.] 

The same, Ubersetzt von Karl Knortz. [Leipzig, n. d.] 



408 LONGFELLOW BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

Longfellow's Evangeline. Deutsch von Heinrich Viehoff. 
[Trier, 1869.] 

Die Goldene Legende. Deutsch von Karl Keck. [Wien, 
1859.] 

The same, tjbersetzt von Elise Freifrau von Hohenhausen. 
[Leipzig, 1880.] 

Das Lied von Hiawatha. Deutsch von Adolph Bcittger. 
[Leipzig, 1856.] 

Der Sang von Hiawatha. Ubersetzt von Ferdinand Freiligratli. 
[Stuttgardt und Augsburg, 1857.] 

Hiawatha, tjbertragen von Hermann Simon. [Leipzig, n. d.] 

Der Sang von Hiawatha, tjbersetzt, eingeleitet und erklart von 
Karl Knortz. [Jena, 1872.] 

Miles Standish's Brautwerbung. Aus dem Englischeii, von F. 
E. Baumgarten. [St. Louis, 1859.] 

Die Brautwerbvmg des Miles Standish. tjbersetzt von Karl 
Knortz. [Leipzig, 18 — .] 

Miles Standish's Brautwerbung. tjbersetzt von F. Manefeld. 
[1867.] 

Die Sage von Konig Olaf." tjbersetzt von Ernst Rauscher. 

The same, tjbersetzt von W. He'rtzberg. 

Dorfschmid. Die alte Uhr auf der Treppe. Des schlaven Traum. 
Translated by H. Schmick. Archiv. f. d. Stud. d. n. Spr. 1858, 
24, 214-217. 

Gedichte von H. W. L. Deutsch von Alexander Neidhardt. 
[Darmstadt, 1856.] 

Der Bau des Schiffes. Translated by Th. Zermelo, Archiv. 
f. d. Stud. d. n. Spr. 1861, 30, 293-304. 

Hyperion. Deutsch von Adolph Bottger. [Leipzig, 1856.] 

Ein Psalm des Lebens, etc. Deutsch von Alexander Neidhardt. 
Archiv. f. d. Stud. d. n. Spr. 1856, 29, 205-208. 

Die gottliche Tragodie. tjbersetzt von Karl Keck. [M. S.j 

Tlie same, tjbersetzt von Hermann Simon. [M. S.] 

Pandora, tjbersetzt von Isabella Schuchardt. [Hamburg, 
1878.] 

Morituri Salutamus. tjbersetzt von Dr. Ernst Schmidt. [Chi- 
cago, 1878.] 

The Hanging of the Crane — Das Kesselhangen. tjbersetzt von 
G. A. Ziindt. [n. d.] 

The same. Das Einhangen des Kesselhakens, frei gearbeitet 
von Joh. Henry Becker, [n. d.] 



LONGFELLOW BIBLIOGRAPHY. 409 

DUTCH. 

Het Lied van Hiawatha. In liet Nederdeutsch, overgebragt 
door L. S. P. Meijboom. [Ainsterdam, 1862.] 

Miles Standish. Nagezongen door S. I. Van den Berg. 
[Haarlem, 186L] 

SWEDISH. 

Hyperion. Pa. Svenska, af Gronlund. [1853.] 

Evangeline. Pa Svenska, af Alb. Lysander. [1854] 

The same. Ofversatt af Hjalmar Erdgren. [Goteborg, 1875.] 

The same. Ofversatt af Philip Svenson. [Chicago, 1875.] 

Hiawatha. Pd Svenska af Westberg. [1856.] 

DANISH. 

Evangeline. Paa Norsk ved Sd. C. Knutsen. [Christiania, 1874.] 
Sangen om Hiawatha. Oversat af. G. Bern. [Kjcibenhavn, 
I860.] 

/ FRENCH. 

Evangeline; suivie des Voix de la Nuit. Par le Chevalier de 
Chatelain. [Jersey, London, Paris, New York, 1856.] 

The same. Conte d'Acadie. Traduit par Charles Brunei. 
Prose. [Paris, 1864.] 

The same. Par Leon Pamphile Le May. [Quebec, 1865.] 

La Legende Dore'e, et Poemes sur I'Esclavage. 

Traduits par Paul Blier et Edward MacDonnel. 

Pi'ose. [Paris et Valenciennes, 1854.] 

Hiawatha. [Traduit de 1' Anglais par M. H. Gomont. [Nancy, 
Paris, I860.] 

Drames et Poesies. Traduits par X. Marmier. 

The New-England Tragedies. [Paris, 1872.] 

Hyperion et Kavanagh. Traduit del' Anglais, et precede d'une 
Notice sur I'auteur. 2 vols. [Paris et Bruxelles, I860.] 

The Psalm of Life, and other Poems. Translated by Lucien de 
la Kive in Essais de Traduction Poetique. [Paris, 1870.] 



Alcune poesie di Enrico W. Longfellow. Traduzione dall' In- 
glese di Angelo Messedaglia. [Pandora, 1866.] 

Lo Studente Spagnuolo. Prima Versione Metrica di Messandro 
Bazzini. [Milano, 1871.] 

The same. Traduzione di Nazzareno Trovanelli. [Firenze, 1876.] 



410 LONGFELLOW BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

Poesie sulla schiavitu. Translated in versi Italian! da Louisa 
Grace Bartolini. [Firenze, I860.] 

Evangelina. Tradotta da Pietro Rotondi. [Firenze, 1857.] 

The same. Traduzione di Carlo Faccioli. [Verona, 1873.] 

La Leggenda d'Oro. Tradotta da Ada Corbellini Martini. 
[Parma, 1867.] 

II Canto d' Hiawatha. Tr. da L. G. Bartolini. Frammenti. 

[Firenze, 1867.] 

Miles Standish. Traduzione dail' Ingiese di Caterino Frattini. 
[Padora, 1868.] 

PORTUGUESE. 

El rei Eoberto de Sicilia. Translated by Dom Pedro II., 
Emperor of Brazil. [Autograph MS.] 

Evangelina. Traducida por Franklin Doria. [Eio de Janeiro, 
1874.] 

The same. Poema de Henrique Longfellow. Traducido por 
Miguel. [Street de Arriaga, Lisbon, n. d.] 

The same. By Flavio Reimar, in the Aurora Brazileira, 1874; 
and by Jose de Goes Filho, in the Municipio, 1874. 

SPANISH. 

Evangelina. Romance de la Acadia. Traducido del Ingles 
por Carlos Morla Vicuna. [Nueva Sook, 1871.] 

POLISH. 

Zlota Legenda. The Golden Legend. Translated into Polish 
by F. Jerzierski. [Warszawa, 1857.] 

Evangelina. Translated into Polish by Felix Jerzierski. [War- 
szawa, 1857.] 

Duma o Hiawacie. The song of Hiawatha. Translated into 
Polish by Feliksa Jerzierskiego. [Warszawa, I860.] 

RUSSIAN AND OTHER LANGUAGES. 

Excelsior, and other Poems, in Russian, [St. Petersburg, n. d.] 
Hiawatha, rendered into Latin with abridgment, by Francis 

William Newman. [London, 1862.] 
Excelsior. Translated into Hebrew by Henry Gersoni. |n. d.] 
A Psalm of Life. In Marathi, by Mrs. H. I. Bruce. [Satara, 

1878.] 
The same. In Chinese, by Jung Tagen. [Written on a fan.] 
The same. In Sanscrit, by Elihu Burritt and his pupils. 



IIsTDEX. 



Abbott, Charles Jeffrey, 62. 
Abbott, Jacob, 37. 
Abbott, John, 56. 
Abbott, John S. C, 68. 
Abbott, Rev. Lyman, 106. 
" Aftermatli," 342, 366. 
Agassiz, Alexander, 390. 
Agassiz, Professor Louis, 343, 368, 

369, 378. 
Alcott, A. Bronson, 52, 284. 
Alden, Capt. John, 18. 
Allen, Frances Anne, 202. 
Allen, Rev. "William, 55. 
"American Common- Place Book 

of Poetry," 80, 100. 
"American Monthly Magazine," 

170. 
Andrew, John A., 106. 
" Anglo-Saxon Literature," 214. 
"An Old Saying," 247. 
" Apostrophe to Time," 249. 
Appleton, Charles S., .341. 
Appleton, Frances E., 224, 283, 

341. 
Appleton, Mary, 341. 
Appleton, Nathan, 224, 282, 283, 

296, 341. 
Appleton, Thomas G., 296, 341, 

388. 
" April Day, An," 80, 93, 163. 
"Argus, The Eastern," 50. 
" Arrow and the Song, The," 295. 



" Arsenal at Springfield, The," 

294. 
Ashburton, Mary, 234, 236, 283. 
Astor, John Jacob, 262. 
" Autumn," 80, 97. 
" Autumnal Nightfall," 84. 

Bachi, Pietro, 216. 
Bagaduce, 18, 20. 
Balch, Francis V., 371. 
" Ballads and other Poems," 259. 
Barrows, Hon. W. G., 384. 
Bartlett, Elizabeth, 18, 
Bartol, Rev. Cyrus A., 389. 
"Belfry of Bruges and Other 

Poems," 294. 
" Bells of Lynn, The," 344. 
Benjamin, Park, 265. 
" Birds of Passage," 373. 
" Blank - Book of a Country 

Schoolmaster, The," 247. 
Bokum, Hermann, 216. 
Bone, J. H. A., 352. 
Boott, Kirk, 341. 
Bowdoin College, 30, 38, 51, 53, 

55, 56, 60, 62, 64, 76, 81, 104, 163, 

187, 191, 218, 371, 384. 
" Boxer, The," British brig, 42. 
" Bracebridge Hall," Irving's, 

102, 185. 
Bradbury, J. W., 68, 75. 
Bragdon, Samuel, 13. 
411 



412 



INDEX. 



Bragdon, Tabitha, 13. 

Brewster, Elder, 18. 

Bridge, Horatio, 62. 

Bright, John, 329. 

Browning, Robert, 344. 

Bryant, William CuUen, 81, 102, 

104, 397, 401. 
Bryant, Mrs. W. C, 195. 
Buckingham, Joseph T., 169, 170. 
" Building of the Ship, The," 315. 
Bull, Ole, 342. 
" Burial of the Minnisink," The, 

80. 
Burrage, Rev. H. S., 14, 385. 
Burton, Major, 20. 
Butler, John, 14. 
Byfield, Town of, 8, 11. 

Cambridge, 187, 197, 198, 199, 200, 
201, 202, 206, 209, 219, 225, 226, 
263, 268, 269, 270, 280, 281, 283, 
293, 295, 312, 322, 340, 342, 346, 
352, 353, 354, 361, 362, 369, 371, 
376, 377, 378, 380, 384, 385, 386, 
388, 392, 400. 

Carter, Nathaniel H., 36, 37, 104. 

Casco Bay, 32. 

Cellier, Alfred, 368. 

Chair, The Children's, 376. 

" Challenge, The," 366. 

"Changed," 366. 

Channing, Edward T., 216. 

Channing, Walter, 17, 216. 

Channing, William Ellery, 216, 
275, 

Chase, Salmon, 17. 

Cheever, George B., 68, 76, 80, 100, 

" Children of the Lord's Supper, 
The," 272. 

"Children," The, 367. 

" Children's Hour, The," 397. 

" Christian Fathers, The," 248. 

" Christus, A Mystery," 364. 

Cilley, Jonathan, 67, 68. 

" City, The Beleaguered," 253. 



Clarke, James Freeman, 284. 
Clark, Lewis Gaylord, 263. 
Clark, Willis Gaylord, 289. 
Cleveland, Henry R., 207, 282. 
Cleaveland, Professor Parker, 56, 

57, 58, 77, 175. 
Cleaves, George, 32. 
Coffin, Joshua, 7. 
" Columbian Muse, The," 104. 
Colman, Samuel^ 226. 
Concord, Town of, 18. 
"Constitution," The frigate, 27, 

379. 
Cooper, James Fenimore, 103. 
" Coplas de Manrique," 179, 254, 
" Courtship of Miles Standish," 

334, 337. 
Craigie, Dr. Andrew, 202. 
Craigie House, The, 202, 204, 208, 

209, 225, 251, 252, 266, 279, 282, 

283, 296, 339, .381, 386. 
Craigie, Mrs., 202, 203, 204. 
" Cure for Celibacy. A," 248. 
Curtis, George William, 203, 285, 

389. 
Cushing, Caleb, 81. 
Cushman, Bezaleel, 37. 

Dana, Richard H , 81. 
Dana, Richard H 3d, 340. 
Dartmouth College, 37, 55, 56. 
Daveis, Charles S., 55, 188. 
Dawes, Rufus, 81, 104. 
" Day, An April," 80, 93, 163. 
" Day is Done, The," 293, 295. 
" Dead, The," 248. 
Deane, Parson, 15. 
" Death of the Young, The," 249. 
Deering, Nathaniel, 49, 
"Defence of Poetry, The," 177. 
Dexter, Professor, 57. 
"Dial, The," 284. 
Dickens, Charles, 101. 
" Dirge over a Nameless Grave," 
91. 



INDEX. 



413 



"Divina Coraniodia, The," 351, 

353, o5G, 3()1. 
•' Divine Tragedy, The," 363, 364. 
Dorchestei- Heights, 18. 
Dow, Jedediah, 33. 
Drake, Samuel A., 199. 
" Drinking Song, The," 295. 
Duinnier, Stephen, 10. 
Dunn, Professor Nathaniel, 62. 
Duxbury, Town of, 17, IS. 
D wight. Rev. Dr. \V. T., 41. 

" Earth, with her Thousand 

Voices," 80. 
Edulei, 342. 
" Elizabeth," 367. 
Elssler, Fanny, 286. 
El well, Edward H., 11, 50, 385. 
Emerson; Ralph Waldo, 52, 103, 

275, 284, 293, 333, 343, 389. 
Emery, Joshua, 34. 
" Endioott, John," 345. 
" Enterprise," The brig, 42. 
" Estray, The," 296. 
" Evangeline," 108, 297, 311, 312, 

334. 
" Evening Post, The New-York," 

102. 
Everett, Charles Carroll, 395. 
Everett, Edward, 170, 202, 215, 

258. 
" Excelsior," 258, 266, 267. 

"F^RiE Queene, The," of Spen- 
ser, 294. 

Falmouth, 12, 14, 20, 21, 48. 

" Fanshawe," of Hawthorne, 53. 

Fellows, Ma'am, 36, 51. 

Felton, Cornelius C, 197,207,209, 
216, 251, 252, 261, 275, 282, 291, 
368, 369. 

Fenno, Miss, 19, 20. 

Fessenden, William Pitt, 69. 

Fields, James T., 346, 353, 354, 
358. 



Fillmore, Millard, 316. 

" Fire of Driftwood, The," 317. 

" Floral Astrology," 249, 253. 

" Flower-de-Luce," 344. 

" Flowers," 253. 

" Footsteps of Angels," The, 193, 

253, 256. 
Foster, Birket, 244. 
Francis, Convers, 284. 
" French Language in England," 

259. 
" Frithiof's Courtship," 214. 
" Frithiof's Temptation," 214. 
" From my Arm-chair," .377. 
Fuller, Margaret, 284, 285, 
Furness, W. H., 284. 

Gakkison, William Lloyd, 275. 

" Gazette, The Portland," 50. 

"Gazette, The United-States Lit- 
erary," 73. 

"Giles Corey of the Salem 
Farms," 345. 

Glover, Col. John, 198. 

"Golden Legend, The," 317, 338, 
363, 364, 390. 

Goold, Hon. William, 18, 20, 385. 

Gorham, Town of, 16. 

Gould, Maria Theresa, 282, 34L 

Gould, Thomas, 282, .311. 

Greene, George Washington, 154, 
159, 194, 283. 

Greene, Nathanael, 195. 

Greenleaf, Capt. Stephen, 10. 

Greenleaf, Mrs. James, 388. 

Greenleaf, Simon, 216. 

Griswold, R. W.,274. 

Hale, Edward Everett, 219. 
Hale, John P., 70. 
Halleck, Fitz-Greene, 262. 
Hamlin, Miss Helen, 379. 
Hamlin, President, 164. 
"Hanging of the Crane, The," 
367. 



414 



INDEX. 



"Happy Man and the Lucky 

Dog, The," 247. 
Harvard College, 11, 12, 17, 18, 55, 

165, 187, 197, 215, 218, 266, 320, 

390, 392, 401. 
"Haunted Chamber, The," 366. 
Haverhill, East, Town of, 11. 
Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 53, 55, 62, 

68, 69, 78, 103, 209, 211, 312, 344. 
Hedge, F. H., 284. 
" Herons of Elmwood, The," 374, 

399. 
"Hiawatha," 320, 323, 325, 326, 

331, 393. 
Hillard, George S., 170, 207, 261, 
Hildreth, Richard, 170. 
Hiram, Town of, 23, 24, 28. 
" History," 249. 
" History of the Italian Language 

and Dialects," The, 179. 
Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 103, 170, 

314, 333, 343, 346, 380, 389. 
Howe, Julia Ward, 262. 
Howe, Lyman, 342. 
Howe, Samuel G., 170, 275, 281, 

282. 
3Iowells, W. D., 354, 359, 363, 
Hunt, John, 13. 
"' Hymn of the Moravian Nuns," 

The, 80, 93. 
" Hymn to the Night," The, 253. 
"Hyperion," 196, 226, 244, 245, 

255, 279, 283. 

" Imitation," 248. 

" Indian Hunter, The," 80, 93. 

"Intellect," 247. 

" Italian Scenery," 85. 

Irving, Washington, 102, 183, 185. 

Jackson, Patrick T., 341. 
" Jeckoyva," 95. 
Jenks, Rev. William, 56. 
Jones, J. Athearn, 81, 104. 
Jordan, Mrs. Olive, 12. 



Jordan, Capt. Samuel, 12. 
Jug, The Longfellow, 374. 

" Kavanagh," 314, 315. 

Kellogg, Rev. Elijah, 40, 45. 

Kent, Charles, 348. 

" Keramos," 46, 373, 374. 

" Killed at the Ford," 344. 

Kirkland, John Thornton, 215. 

"Knickerbocker, The," 246,249, 

250, 263. 
" Knickerbocker's History of 

New York," 102. 
" Knight, The Elected," 266. 

" Legend Beautiful, The," 365. 

Lexington, Town of, 18. 

Lieber, Francis, 197, 258, 276. 

" Lighthouse, The," 317. 

L'Homond, Charles F., 166. 

"Light of Stars, The," 253, 255, 
256, 258. 

Lincoln, Enoch, 48. 

Little, Josiah L., 65, 67. 

Longfellow, Abigail, 28. 

Longfellow, Alexander W., 14, 
17, 388. 

Longfellow, Alice, 11. 

Longfellow, Alice M., 340, 388, 

Longfellow, Anne, 17. 

Longfellow, Annie AUegra, 340, 
388. 

Longfellow, Charles A., 339, 388. 

Longfellow, Edith, 340, 388. 

Longfellow, Elizabeth, 17. 

Longfellow, Ellen, 17. 

Longfellow, Ernest W., 340, 388. 

Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, 
birth, 32; named, 35; firstschool, 
.35 ; at Portland Academy, 36 ; 
at Bowdoin College, 38, 53-79 ; 
first poem, 38, 39; reminiscences 
of old Portland, 42-45; contrib- 
utes to " United-States Literary 
Gazette," 73 ; anecdotes of, 70, 



INDEX. 



415 



71, 72, 73, 74 ; as a student in 
college, 70-7(i; fondness for 
music, 76; graduation, 77-79; 
earlier poems, 80-104; first visit 
to Europe, 105-162; first meets 
Greene, 154; appointed a pro- 
fessor in Bowdoin College, 105 ; 
enters upon his professorship, 
163; tributes to, 163-165; pre- 
pares text-books, 166; a con- 
tributor to " The North Ameri- 
can Review," 167, 177, 179, 180, 
206, 211, 213, 214, 259, 289; a con- 
tributor to " The New-England 
Magazine," 169-172 ; first mar- 
riage, 173 ; publishes " Outre- 
Mer," 181 ; criticism on the 
same, 182-186 ; invited to Cam- 
bridge, 187; resigns at Bow- 
doin College, 192 ; appointed 
" Smith " Professor at Harvard 
College, 192 ; second visit to 
Europe, 192-197 ; death of his 
wife, 193 ; first meets Sumner 
and Felton, 197 ; settles in Cam- 
bridge, 197 ; first years in Cam- 
bridge, 198-223 ; Longfellow at 
the Craigie House, 203 ; first 
literary production in Cam- 
bridge, 206 ; joins the " Five of 
Clubs," 207 ; meetings with 
Hawthorne, 209-213 ; begins 
work at the college, 219 ; trib- 
utes to, 209-223 ; first meets 
Miss Appleton, 224 ; publishes 
" Hyperion," 226 ; outline of, 
226-245; contributes to "The 
Knickerbocker," 246-250 ; the 
" Voices of the Night," 250-258; 
•' Ballads and other Poems," 
259-274 ; again visits Europe, 
275; "Poems on Slavery," 
275-278 ; second marriage, 283 ; 
keeps aloof from Transcen- 
dentalism, 284; "The Spanish 



Student," 286-289; publishes 
" Poets and Poetry of Europe," 
290 ; first collected edition 
of his poems, 292 ; publishes 
"The Waif," 292; "The Bel- 
fry of Bruges, and other Po- 
ems," 294 ; " The Estraj'," 296; 
appearance of " Evangeline." 
297; "Kavanagh," 314; "The 
Seaside and the Fireside," 
315; "The Golden Legend," 
317 ; resigns his professor- 
ship at Harvard College, 320; 
publishes "Hiawatha," 320; 
popularity of, 331 ; helps start 
" The Atlantic Monthly," 333 ; 
publishes " Courtship of Miles 
Standish," 334 ; death of his 
second wife, 338 ; children of, 
339, 340; publishes "Tales of 
a "Wayside Inn,' ' 342 ; " Flower- 
de-Luce, and other Poems," 
344; " The New-England Trage- 
dies," 344; again visits Europe, 
346 ; how entertained, 346-350 
a translator of Dante, 351-362 
the translation published, 362 
" The Divine Tragedy," 363 
"Three Books of Song," 364 
visits Newbury, 365 ; " After- 
math," 342, 366; "The Hang- 
ing of the Crane," 367; "The 
Mnsque of Pandora," 368 ; 
mourns the death of Felton, 
Agassiz, and Sumner, 369-371 ; 
meets his classmates at Bow- 
doin College, 371; edits " Poems 
of Places," 372 ; " Keramos," 
373 : receives the Longfellow 
Jug, 376 ; honored by the Cam- 
bridge children, 376 ; his- last 
volume, "Ultima Thule," 379 
address at Cambridge, 380 
health begins to decline, 381 
celebration of his seventy-fifth 



416 



INDEX. 



birthday, 383-385 ; last illness, 

386, 387 ; death, 388 ; funeral, 

389-391 ; other ceremonies, 392- 

400 ; tributes, 401-403. 
Longfellow, Horace F., letter of 

8, 9, 11. 
Longfellow, Joseph, 11. 
Longfellow, Mary, 17. 
Longfellow, Mrs., 1st, 192, 193. 
Longfellow, Mrs., 2d, 338, 339, 

340. 
Longfellow, Nathan, 11. 
Longfellow, Rev. Samuel, 390, 

391. 
Longfellow, Samuel, 11, 15. 
Longfellow, Samuel, 2d, 17. 
Longfellow, Stephen, 1st, 10, 14. 
Longfellow, Stephen, 2d, 11, 12, 

13, 14, 15. 
Longfellow, Stephen, 3d, 16. 
Longfellow, Stephen, 4th, 16, 27, 

28, 31, 32, 35. 
Longfellow, Stephen, brother of 

the poet, 60. 
Longfellow, Tabitha, 15. 
Longfellow, William, 7, 8, 10. 
Longfellow, Zilpah, 32. 
Lord, Nathan, 55. 
" Lovewell's Fight," poem on, 39, 

40, 71, 81, 382. 
Lowell, James Russell, 219, 274, 

278, 285, 314, 320, 333, 340, 343, 

346, 352, 373, 399. 
Loyal, Fort, 33. 

" Luck of Edenhall, The," 266. 
" Lunatic Girl, The," 88. 
Lunt, George, 81. 
Lytton, Lord, 349. 

Mackintosh, Sir James, 341. 

Madison, James, 215. 

" Maidenhood," 271. 

Maine Historical Society, 188, 384. 

Marshfield, Town of, 11. 

Marston's Taverr;, 47. 



" Martin Chuzzlewit," of Dickens, 

101. 
Martin, Theodore, 348. 
Martineaii, Harriet, 293. 
" Masque of Pandora, The," 368. 
McLellan, Capt. Arthur, 21. 
"Meeting, The," 366. 
Mellen, Frederic, 78. 
Mellen, Grenville, 49, 81, 104. 
"Metropolis, The Great," 206. 
" Midnight Devotion," 247. 
" Midnight Mass for the Dying 

Year," 253, 256. 
Mitchell, William, 10. 
Mitford, Miss Mary, 332. 
Monti, Luigi, 342. 
"Morituri Salutamus," 368, 371, 

398. 
Motley, 102. 
Musgro, Jabez, 10. 
" Musings," 97. 
"My Lost Youth," 42. 

Neat., John, 49. 
Newbury Company, 8, 10. 
Newbury, Town of, 7, 10. 
"New-England Magazine, The," 

169, 170, 182, 184. 
" New-England Tragedies, The," 

344, 363, 364, 394. 
Newman, Samuel P., 56. 
" New- York Review and Athe- 

nfeum Magazine," 102. 
Nichols, George, 371. 
Nichols, John, 22. 
" Noel," 344. 
Nordin, Baron, 272. 
" North American Review, The," 

167, 177, 179, 180, 183, 191, 192, 

206, 211, 289. 
" Norman Diligence, The," 172. 
Norton, Professor Andrews, 208, 

282, 333, 362. 
Norton, Professor Charles Eliot. 

208, 353, 355. 



INDEX. 



417 



" Obituary, An," 248. 

"Old Clock on the Stairs, The," 

295. 
" Old English Romances," 180. 
" Origin and Progress of the 

French Language," 167. 
Orr, Hon. Benjamin, 106. 
"Outre-Mer," 162, 172, 181, 182, 

186, 192, 210, 281, 288. 
Owen, John, 39, 51, 52, 70, 73, 74, 

207, 226, 250, 251, 293, 371, 372, 

385, 386, 390. 

Packard, Professor Alpheus S., 

56, 60, 05, 104, 165, 385. 
Paine, Capt. Jonathan, 21. 
Parker, Rev. Thomas, 7. 
Parson-s, Theophilus, 73, 81, 104, 
Parsons, T. W., 342, .362. 
"Passage from Dante, A," 247. 
Pay son. Rev. Edward, 40. 
Peabody, Rev. O. W. B., 170, 

184. 
Peabody, Rev. Francis G., 392. 
Pen, The Iron, 379. 
Percival, James E., 81, 104. 
Philadelphia, 107. 
Phillips, Willard, 202. 
Phillips, Wendell, 275. 
" Philosophy, Rosicrucian, The," 

249. 
Phips, Sir William, 9. 
Pierce, Benjamin, 216. 
Pierce, Edward L., 371. 
Pierce, Franklin, 70. 
" Pilgrim of Outre-Mer, The," 

172. 
Pilsbury, Serjt. Increase, 10. 
Plagiarists, 248. 
Plaisted, Mr., 12. 
Plunkett, Thomas F., 282, 296. 
Poe, Edgar A., 102, 273, 274, 285, 

287, 288, 294. 
" Poems of Places," 372. 
" Poems on Slavery," 275, 277. 



" Poets and Poetry of Europe," 

The, 214, 290. 
" Poetry," 248. 
Poore, Ben: Perley, 365. 
Portland, Me., 11, 12, 14, 16, 23, 

26, 27, 28, 30, 32, 37, 40, 41, 46, 

105, 173, 188, 281. 
Portland Academy, 36, 39, 51. 
Potter, Anne Storer, 173. 
Potter, Hon. Barrett, 173. 
Potter, Mary Storer, 173, 174, 
Preble, Commodore, 26, 47. 
" Prelude," 253. 
Prentiss, Sergeant Smith, 70. 
Prescott, 102, 180, 282, 333. 
"Psalm of Life," The, 213, 252, 

253, 254, 255, 258, 339, 397. 

" Quadroon Girl, The," 276. 
Quiney, Josiah, 215, 333. 

Read, Thomas Buchanan, 340. 

" Reaper and the Flowers, The," 
253, 255, 258. > 

"Recollections of the Metropo- 
lis," 172. 

"Resignation," 317. 

" Rhyme of Sir Christopher," 366. 

Ripley, George, 284. 

Roosevelt, Blanche, 368. 

"Ropewalk, The," 46. 

Roxbury, Town of, 18. 

Russell, Thomas, 201. 

Sales, Francis, 216. 
" Salmagundi," 102. 
Sampson, Susanna, 18. 
"Santa Filomena," 334. 
Sargent, Epes, 170. 
" Saturday Afternoon," 247. 
" Scanderbeg," 366. 
Schoolcraft, Henry R., 322, 324. 
"Schoolmaster, The," 170, 171, 

172, 183. 
" Sea-Diver, The," 80, 96, 



418 



INDEX. 



" Seaweed," 295. 

" Seaside and the Fireside, The," 

315. 
" Secret of the Sea, The," 317. 
" Set of China, The," 248. 
Sewall, Anne, 8. 
Sewall, Elizabeth, 8. 
Sewall, Henry, 8. 
Sewall, Nathan, 8. 
Sewall, Samuel, 8. 
Sewall, Stephen, 8. 
Sheplejs Rev. David, 55, 56, 63, 

66, 76, 371. 
Short, Henry, 10. 
" Skeleton in Armor, The," 260, 

261, 274. 
"Sketch-Book," of Irving, 102, 

185. 
" Slave's Dream, The," 276. 
" Slave Singing at Midnight," 

276. 
Smith, Parson, 13, 48. 
Smith, Lieut. James, 10. 
Smith, Thomas, 12. 
Smith's " Journal," Parson, 12, 

13. 
Smyth, Egbert C, 106. 
"Song," 08. 

" Song of Savoy, A," 92. 
" Song of the Rhine," 248. 
"Song of Hiawatha," 320, 323, 

325, 326, 331, 393. 
"Soul, The," 249. 
" Spanish Language and Litera- 
ture," 180. 
" Spanish Devotional and Moral 

Poetry," 170. 
" Spanish Student, The," 286, 287, 

288, 337. 
" Spirit of Poetry, The," 80. 
Sparks, Jared, 202. 
Stephenson, Abigail Longfellow, 

28. . 

Stephenson, Samuel, 28, 32. 
Story, Hon. Joseph, 17, 170, 215. 



Stowe, Calvin E., 70, 106. 
Sumner, Charles, 197, 207, 209, 

252, 255, 261, 266, 272, 275, 282, 

283, 295, 315, 316, 342, 365, 368, 

370. 
Sumner, Harriet C, 342. 
" Sunrise on the Hills," 80, 95. 
Surault, Francis M. J., 216. 
" Suspiria," 390. 
" Syllabus de la Grammaire ita- 

lienne," 176. 

" Tales of a Traveller," 102. 

" Tales of a Wayside Inn," 342, 

364, 366. 
Tegne'r's " Frithiofs Saga," 213. 
Tegne'r, Bishop, 272, 274. 
" Telegraph , the luondon," quoted, 

266. 
Tennyson, Alfred, 329, 344, 358, 

363, 399. 
"'Thanksgiving," 82. 
" Thanatopsis," 102. 
" Three Books of Song," 364. 
"Three Friends of Mine," .368, 

369. 
Ticknor, George. 187, 188, 190, 191, 

195, 216,251, 351. 
" To the River Charles," 270. 
Tompson, Abigail, 11. 
Tompson, Rev. Edward, 11. 
Tracy, Nathaniel, 201. 
Tread well, Daniel, 216. 
Tread well, Professor, 342. 
Tuckerman, Henry T., 266. 
"Twice-told Tales," of Haw- 
thorne, 210. 
" Two Locks of Hair, The," 

266. 
Tyng, Sarah, 12. 
Tyng, William, 12. 

" United-States Literary Ga- 
zette, The," 81, 82, 95, 100, 104, 
250. 



INDEX. 



419 



Vassal, Col. John, 198. 

Vassal House, 201. 

" Venetian Gondolier, The," 90. 

Victoria, Queen, 348. 

" Village Blacksmith, The," 268, 

269, 270, 274, 376. 
" Village of Auteuil, The," 172. 
" Voices of the Night," The, 250, 

251, 253, 256, 258, 259, 265, 397. 

Wadsworth, Alexander Scam- 

mell, 27. 
Wadsworth, Charles Lee, 24. 
Wadsworth, Christopher, 17. 
Wadsworth, Henry, 26, 35. 
Wadsworth House, 22, 28. 
Wadsworth, Mrs., 20. 
Wadsworth, Deacon Peleg, 17. 
Wadsworth, Gen. Peleg, 17, 28. 
Wadsworth, Zilpah, 17. 
Wadsworth, Zilpah, 2d, 21, 27. 
" Waif, The," 292, 294, 296. 
Wales, Henry, 342. 
Ward, Gen., 18. 
Ward, Samuel, 194, 260, 263, 272, 

281, 352, 367. 
Ward, Julia, 281. 



Ware, John, 216. 

" Warning, The," 276. 

Washington, George, 198, 201, 

202, 204. 
Wendell, Elizabeth, 13. 
" Where is Peter Grimm ? " 248. 
Whittier, John Greenleaf, 11, 102, 

275, 278, 333, 346, 365. 
Willis, Nathaniel P., 40, 81. 
Willis, William, 13, 15, 30. 
Wilson, James Grant, 207. 
Winthrop, Kobert C, 215, 341. 
Wiseman, Cardinal, 329. 
"Wise Saw, A," 249. 
Withington, Dr., 170. 
" Woods in Winter," 80, 163. 
Worcester, Joseph, 202, 
"World, The New," 265. 
" Wreck of the Hesperus, The," 

264, 274. 
" Writings of Washington," 

Sparks's, 202. 
Wyman, Dr. Morrill, 387, 390. 

Young, Patience, 16. 

ZiMMEKN, Adolph, 195. 






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